The Trekker
by catsvrsdogscatswin
Summary: Arya Thompson had a nice life. A simple life. An anime-loving life. She lived with her mother and father on a remote Virginia farm that should've been left behind sixty years ago. And, just for kicks, Arya tried a spell she found online that (supposedly) connects two worlds together. Her problem? It worked. And now she's stuck in Hetalia. Life's not so simple anymore.Rated for Lan.
1. In Which a Faulty Spell is Used

_**It's 9.20 at night, my sister is having her birthday party at the Mall of America, and I'm listening to a Dark Hetalia AMV to the music of Funhouse by P!nk. I figured I needed some motivation, and thus, this story managed to wiggle its way out onto the net. I've been working on it for a while, and I wanted to finish it and move on to the sequel I'm planning to do before I started posting, but…again, it's after 9 on a Friday night, I'm supposed to stay up and watch for latecomers to the party, and I don't really give a damn. So, review it. Give me some motivation here. Next four chapters will be published over the next four days, and so on.**_

_**November 14, 2014**_

_Arya's POV:_

"Kick his ass America!" I yelled as I clutched a pillow to my chest. I was watching _Hetalia: Paint it, White_ for the billionth time this week. Currently the Allies and Axis were fighting the Pictonians on the deserted island. The battered, secondhand TV stood lonely sentinel on an equally used mini table, casting light over my ancient room. Anime screenshots, fan art, and demotivationals were liberally pasted over the hideous, slightly moldering wallpaper, and the ceiling was off-white plaster. A single (somewhat broken) overhead and fan (loud and irritating), both turned off, loomed over me and my place on the bed. Various anime trinkets, occult books, small pocketknives, and rocks battled for dominion on every available flat surface, my bed included.

This was my domain from dinner to bedtime, seven days a week, 363 days a year. We spent two days away at family's on Christmas and Easter, but other than that, my family never went anywhere. (This only deepened my deep-seated belief I was dropped in a family of hicks at birth.) We lived in a large, spacious farmhouse on the remnants of what was once a prosperous farm, which now only served for horseback riding. Dad ran the biz, mom worked in town at a diner. Yes, you heard me. In town. We were that far off.

Nothing grew on the farm and no animals raised their cacophonous calls, for which I was (somewhat) grateful. Occasionally I wished for a cat or a dog, but we were scraping by as it was. We weren't _poor_ per say, but we had next to no leisure money either. All my anime merchandise was preciously bought on my own (meager) income. I had turned sixteen last spring, and already had a job working in the hotel in town. Bellhops (or whatever we were called now) didn't get paid much, but it was enough for gas and a little left over.

Currently, my honey-brown eyes were intently focused on the shimmering screen, my arms crossed tightly over the plump pillow that normally served as a headrest, clutching it to my worn black tank-top, which was the top part of my pajamas. The bottoms were old army fatigues that had belonged to my dad. Believe it or not, both were pretty comfortable to sleep in. I sighed happily, content with the world for once. Lately, I had been feeling an…itch, so to speak. Everything was boring, I wanted something _new_. Personally, I thought it was a late teenager cycle or something. I snuggled my face against the pillow with a yawn, enjoying the now-memorized voices and lines of the Hetalia cast, at least until a persistent beeping interrupted my thoughts.

I sighed and reached over, my fingers snagging the plain black phone on my bedside table. I flicked the screen, and my eyebrow rose as I saw the message from "animefreak123". We had been chatting back and forth for a few weeks now, having met on a Hetalia message board. "_Hey Rye-Rye, how are things?_" I absently paused the television before typing back "_Just fine, busy watching Hetalia: Paint it, White again._" There was an oddly long pause, before he/she beeped in again. "_Hey, I found a cool "spell" on some kind of site a few days ago, wanna try? It's supposed to take you to another universe of your choosing._"

I chuckled, I couldn't help it. _Well, I'm bored enough._ I typed in a quick "hang on" into my phone, then grabbed my "apocalypse bag". It contained about four or five changes of clothes, several important survival items, some books, a knife or two, a pocket mirror, and various toiletries. I had watched enough conspiracy/zombie apocalypse movies that I had a bag like this for "just in case" situations, and anyway, it didn't _hurt_ to be prepared. Replacing my pillow with it, I picked up my phone again. "_Yeah sure, so are you gonna send it to me or what?_" There was a long pause, then another cheerful beep. "_Alright Rye-Rye, here ya go, and remember to call me if it doesn't work! I'll go and beat the crap out of the guys who suggested it and crushed your dreams!_" This was followed by a second, much longer message, and I scrolled down, sucking in a deep breath. It seemed almost deceptively straightforward.

Five minutes later, I was dressed in a spare outdoor outfit I had for hard work, some old jeans and a dark green T-shirt, my PJs packed in the bag slung over my back, and my blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. I was standing in the middle of a traditional pentacle on the rough wooden floor of my bedroom, the Hetalia DVD (not in its case) laying before me innocently. I considered the incantation written down on my phone nervously, feeling self-conscious. _If this doesn't work, I'm going to feel like the biggest idiot ever for trying it in the first place._ I thought with a hard swallow, then cleared my throat twice and spoke. "_Santra badra winza na wonpa torana intrakantera, Santra badra winza na wonpa torana intrakantera_." I recited carefully, then stood there, blushing slightly, waiting for it to work.

Nothing.

Not even a spark.

I sighed and my shoulders slumped downwards slightly. _You knew it was stupid,_ a voice in my head said gently. _But you tried anyway, so it doesn't matter._ I shook my head slightly at my folly, and reached down to pick up the DVD gently.

As soon as my fingers touched the smooth plastic, my world exploded. Vertigo spun all around me, and I tried to take in a breath to shriek, but my throat seized as I felt the very essence of my being tumbling and cascading like a river overflooded. I felt very like what Alice must have as she tumbled down the metaphorical rabbit hole. The last thought in my mind was how I was going to kill animefreak123, and then my back hit cold water and I was drowning. I thrashed and coughed, tried desperately to struggle towards the surface that was shrinking above me, but water rushed down my throat and I was weighed down by my clothes and backpack. My eyes started slipping closed, and I fought even more frantically against the pull of the water, but gravity was inevitable.

_My head was ringing. Sounds registered oddly, as if I was still lying at the bottom of the riverbed. Something was pounding on my back, but all I felt was the vibrations that told me how much force was being used. Water streamed from my nose and mouth, and I was choking and coughing, desperately trying to hack in air. Dimly I realized I was on my hands and knees, and that someone was supporting my shoulders, holding me up, at the same helping me rid the water from my lungs by pounding my back. Finally, oh God finally, I could breathe, and sound rushed in._

"-I'M REALLY REALLY SORRY TO HIT YOU NICE LADY BUT YOU WERE DROWNING AND I DON'T WANT YOU TO DROWN AND OH MY GOD GERMANY HELP MEEEEEE!"

I twitched, valiantly trying to drag my head up. _There's only one person in the world who sounds like that._ Sure enough, my watery eyes spotted an indecorous curl atop an auburn head of hair, bouncing merrily with the man's every movement. My eyes moved down to a concerned, no, panicked face, closed eyes and all. His expression rapidly turned relieved as our eyes met, though how he could see like that was beyond me. "Vee~, you're okay!" he said happily, and I smiled weakly. "Uh, yeah. Just a bit…waterlogged." The sheer enormity of this was beyond me. I was talking to Italy. _I was talking to Italy_. He wasn't even real! _You know, you tried this spell with the __**intention **__of it working and you meeting him. You shouldn't be so surprised._ My inner, sarcastic mind-voice pointed out witheringly, and I giggled nervously.

"Sooo…what were you doing in the river?" Italy asked cheerfully, squinting at me. I blinked back, nonplussed. _How does he squint with his eyes closed?!_ My inner voice shrieked, and I mentally tamped it down. _Assuming it worked, and I'm pretty sure it did, I __**am **__in an anime. Laws of physics are kinda out of the picture._ I thought reasonably, then realized he was still waiting for me to answer his question. "I, uh, I f-fell in. Tell me, are you…Italy?" I asked, and his face brightened. "_Si_! Oh goody, you know my name! We can be best friends now, yay!" Without another word, he launched himself forward and hugged me tightly as I yelped in surprise. I wasn't used to surprise hugs. Then the reality of my situation crept in again. _Italy, for real, legit Italy, is giving me a hug. _The innate Hetalia fangirl within me took over instantly, and I hugged back gleefully with a cheer of "PASTA!"

_***Time Skip***_

"-and you can meet big brother France and Germany and Romano –oh, he's really grumpy, but hug therapy makes everyone feel better!" Italy chattered, and I nodded and contributed an occasional "hmm", or "Oh really?", and "That sounds cool" for every thirty or so words. Apparently I had nearly met an untimely watery demise in a river near Italy's house –in other words, in the actual country of Italy. Luckily, we had managed to recover my backpack and its contents, or I would have to borrow clothing from the perky Italian. _I'm glad I don't have to do that._ I thought, eyeing the figure ahead of me critically with a slight smile. _He's a lot shorter than me_. I was tall for my age, in fact…_I'm like what, five feet ten? Mathematically…wow, almost exactly 180 cms. Ha! I'm the same height as Germany!_ I thought with a grin, laughing to myself quietly.

"Hey Italy, wait up!" I said, realizing I was started to lag behind and hurrying to catch up. He waited obediently, and I suddenly realized something else as I came even. "Hey, I can crash at your place, right? I have _no idea_ where my house is." I asked him, and Italy thought for half a second, frowning slightly. "Sure thing, my bestest best friend ever! Vee~, I can't wait to tell Romano!" he chirped almost instantly, and I sweatdropped. "Well, if you're fine with it…" I sighed, then grinned and adjusted my backpack. "What's for dinner?"

"PAAASTAAAAAA!"

_**9.23 PM, USA Central Time**_

_**And this is my first Hetalia fanfic by the way, so forgive me if some characters are out of character.**_


	2. In Which Training is Started

_**This is the first M-rated fic I've done, so I'm kinda nervous…then again, my character is supposed to be a mildly average teenager, and with the events I plan on throwing at her…she will have cause to swear, quite inventively. Also, in answer to people with pairing questions…I'm not planning to do any for this particular fic, especially OC ones. This is practice, but it's going to be FUN practice. Basically, I'm trying to develop a watertight original character by running them through several fandoms, and the best way to "cannonly" do this is to have them transported to various animes. Yes, I'm planning on moving her to a different anime eventually, but only after this fic is done. By the by, the next universe IS going to be Black Butler…and yes, I know I have a history of leaving things undone in that fandom, but on this one I'm planning to use the manga instead of the anime, which I enjoyed far more. We'll see how it works out.**_

_**November 15, 2014**_

_Arya's POV:_

"Dinner's at six, and here's your room!" Italy said proudly, showing me a cute little bedroom that looked out into the garden around his villa. _Italy's house is just as pretty as it is in the anime._ I thought, setting my bag down, and turned towards the perky nation. "Well, I'm gonna take a shower and settle in, so to speak, so…" He beamed and waved happily, already halfway out the door. "No worries, I'll just go say hi to big brother!" He was off before I could ask if he meant France or Romano. _Well, not like it matters…too much._ I thought with a shrug, then turned to the bathroom. It was just as gorgeous as the rest of the house, and I spent at least ten minutes soaking contentedly in the tub before starting to scrub the smell of river off my poor, mauled, somewhat squishy body. I wasn't a knockout by any means, nor was I really in shape, but I flattered myself to think I wasn't too bad to look at. Freshly cleaned, I sat down on the bed and took out my journal. Luckily, my apocalypse bag had plastic lining, so nothing important was water-damaged. Opening it to my last entry, I took out my favorite fountain pen and started.

_Dear Me:_

_Day 1, "Hetalia" Reckoning_

_(Song)Quote for the Day:_

_"Think I need a ginger ale; that was such an epic fail!" (–Song)_

_I met Italy today. He pulled me out of the river earlier, and apparently I get to stay at his house for the foreseeable future. Check this, he's just as energetic as the anime. More so, even. His house is really pretty, and my bedroom is too. I'll describe it here._

_Okay, so the wallpaper is like a cream color, and the floor's mahogany or oak or a dark wood like that. Pretty solid, and not all bumpy and crooked like some of these old houses. Doesn't creak all that much except for by the window, which is huge. I have a fricking balcony coming out of it. But anyway, there's some pretty landscape pictures hanging on the walls that Italy probably painted himself when he was in his Renaissance period, and I get a personal bathroom. It's really swanky, there was perfume and stuff like that in the cupboards…which I probably won't use unless I'm going somewhere fancy. Oh, also, my bed is HUGE. I can do an X with my body and still not reach the sides._

_Anyway, that's pretty much all my room has to offer. Italy's off visiting relatives, so I have time to muse on just what the hell I'm gonna do here._

_I'm thinking I should maybe use this opportunity, after all, how often does one get transported to a different dimension, an anime one no less? I'll probably end up missing my family at one point…but until then, I need to do something productive. I can ask Italy about England, he knows magic. He'll probably be able to get me back. Until then…um…I guess I should make a list of things to do if England's busy, or if the spell'll take a while to reach my house, or something like that._

_Things I Want To Do in "Hetalia": _

_Learn German –this is a chance to finish out, since I couldn't ask for a better teacher than Germany himself._

_Learn Japanese –if this happens again, it might be in Higurashi (god forbid) or another Japanese-speaking anime, and I need to be able to communicate._

_Learn Italian –hell, if I ask the other two, might as well ask Italy to learn his mother language._

_Get in shape –It's one of my best chances to do so, since I can train with Germany, Italy, and Japan, all of whom I admire._

_Learn self-defense –I can learn how to wield a katana from Japan, that'd be __**so**__ badass. Maybe even ask Switzerland how to shoot a gun._

_Learn Magic –Britain could maybe teach me a little when he's figuring out how to get me home. That would be __**sweet**__._

Rattling footsteps alerted me to the presence of Italy in the house, and he burst through my door with a large smile plastered on his face. "Vee~! Ciao Arya, it's time to go to Germany's house!" I raised both eyebrows. "Why?" Italy's face fell comically. "He always makes us train and run laps and things like that, so it's no fun at all! Oh, but I get to see my other friends, so it's still a bunch of fun! Plus, Germany sounds really funny when he yells, and laughter is good for the heart!" I grinned and closed my journal, placing it safely in my bag. "Sure, do I need to get changed for it?" Italy cocked his head in thought. "Vee, probably. Don't worry, I'll wait for you!" I nodded and hurried to the bathroom, dragging my work clothes with me.

***Time Skip***

"Again…who is this, Italy?" One blue eye was twitching slightly as he stared at me. "Vee~, her name's Arya, she's my new best friend!" Italy slung his arm around my neck in a comradely fashion as he spoke and gave me another hug. There was a long, somewhat stunned silence from the blonde. "…you do realize we're supposed to keep our existence as countries a secret, _ja_?" he finally sighed, looking weary. I didn't blame him; we had wasted at least ten minutes explaining that yes, I was staying at Italy's house, yes, I already knew he was the physical representation of North Italy, and yes, that there were others like him. I saluted him clumsily. "Don't worry Mister _Deutschland_, I'll keep it a secret." His expression brightened somewhat. "_Sprechen sie Deutsch_?" I smiled sheepishly. "Uh, _ja, ich kleine sprechen._ Not a lot though." He lost the look a little, but still seemed in a slightly better mood. "Well, as Italy's no doubt told you, I'm Germany. Pleased to meet you." He held out his hand, and I took it. His hand was broad and warm, covered in one of his black gloves, and I could feel the strength contained in it as he shook my hand firmly. _I want a grip like that._ I thought jealously, and he turned to Italy. "So, for today-"

"Um, excuse me Mister _Deutschland_?"

He looked over his shoulder, puzzled. "_Ja_?" I pointed to Italy. "Can I join in on the training?" Germany considered this for a moment, then grinned. I looked at him uneasily as the militaristically-clad blonde approached._ I don't like the looks of this one little bit_. I thought with a hard swallow as he towered over me, still with the grin. Despite the fact we were almost exactly the same height, he was solid muscle, whilst most of mine was in my back and legs from living on a farm. Trust me, it showed. I felt very intimidated and very small as I stared up at him. "Alright, twelve laps around, GO!" he shouted, pointing at the track sharply. Startled, I started walking past him. "FASTER!" I yelped at his bellow, and broke into a light trot. "FASTER! **GOTT VERDAMMT**, I'LL COME AFTER YOU WITH MEIN GUN IF YOU DON'T PICK UP YOUR PACE!" I shrieked and took off, running as fast as my legs could manage.

About five minutes later, I realized that the track Italy, Japan, and Germany worked out on was a hell of a lot longer than the ones at any school I had attended, never mind seen. Already I was beginning to flag. Deciding a little slacking of the pace wouldn't matter, I slowed down to a brisk jog. "OH NO YOU DON'T, MOVE IT OR LOSE IT FRAULIEIN!" I shrieked again as a gunshot went off and a bullet pinged off the ground behind me. Craning my neck, I saw Germany calmly jogging behind me, a slightly evil grin on his face. It was clear he was enjoying my struggles immensely. Reminding myself uneasily that I wanted to get in shape, I turned around again and started to run.

_***Time Skip***_

"Heeeh…haaa…heeeh…haaa…hooo…" I panted, sweat dripping from every pore. Germany stood above me calmly, taking a long swallow from a water bottle. _He's evil, he's evil, he's an evil, evil demon who takes pleasure in other people's suffering…_ I thought between ragged gasps, then looked up as something cold hit my forehead and bounced away. It was another water bottle, covered in dew and obviously ice cold. I snatched it up from the dusty ground and began chugging as fast as I deemed safe; in survival movies, when the hero was trapped out in the desert or whatever, the rescuers always said it was dangerous for them to drink too fast. I sure as hell was as dehydrated as I would be if I was in a desert. All my water was dripping off my face. "Well, you at least have good water discipline." Germany said approvingly, and I managed to glare at him from my position hunkered on the ground, desperately swallowing water.

I tugged the empty bottle free and took a deep breath. "How many more of these do I have to do?" I asked, and he looked at his watch. "Eleven. Get moving." He held out his hand, and I considered it dubiously. _You know, you wanted to get in shape. This is really your own damn fault. Besides, it's only eleven more laps. Maybe he'll let me slow down on them. It's not like he wants to kill me._ My inner self rationalized, and I sighed and took his hand, letting him heave me upright. "This is going to suck, isn't it?" He laughed and smacked me on the shoulder in a friendly fashion. "Look at it this way, Italy hasn't even finished his first lap. It's strange having someone who's somewhat serious about training instead." he said with a slight smile, and I chuckled wearily, tying my hair back in a ponytail and starting to jog. _Okay, maybe he isn't all that bad-_

"AND PICK UP THE PACE!"

_Germany sucks ass._

_***Time Skip***_

I could barely think. Twelve laps in, and I was seriously sure that I was about to die. I think Germany and Italy had to drag me back to the picnic table where we had started. I merely sat there, panting hard, sweat dripping off me, and quite sure every last muscle was on fire. I had at least three stitches in both sides, and I had cut my lip falling down on a rock. _Screw being in shape, this is absolutely nightmarish and I refuse to-_ "Vee~, you look tired Arya!" Italy chirped, looking chipper. _Of course, __**he**__ probably strolled the whole way. _I thought somewhat bitterly, and blinked as he nudged a rice cake over to me. "Japan taught me how to make them! Go on and try, they're really good!" Sighing a little, I did as I was told. It tasted sweet, and before I knew it I had eaten the whole thing. A "thud" and an increase of weight at the table told me Germany had sat down too, and he pushed a lunchbox of various foodstuffs across to me. I saw a mixture of Italian cuisine and German food therein, and started at Germany's voice. "So, what is your full name anyway? Arya's not much to go by if you want us to find your family."

"Aryana. Aryana Thompson. Just call me Arya, or even Ari for short."

He looked pensive as he started on his own meal. "Thompson. That's a popular last name." he muttered, and Italy looked sad. "Vee~, but we'll find her home eventually, right?" he asked, and I shrugged. I wasn't in much of a mood to do anything but finish this meal and then collapse. Germany looked up. "Unless you don't want to go home?" he asked curiously, and I yawned. "I…_ah_, do, but…can I talk to…_mmm_…Britain about it?" My eyelids fluttered with exhaustion, missing the covert glance both countries sent each other. Even Italy looked somewhat worried, which was uncharacteristic of him. "You look like you're about to fall on your nose, Italy should probably get you home. We can talk about this tomorrow." Germany said with a dismissive wave of his hand, and I blindly stood, following the equally tired Italian towards the car.

Only on the ride home would I remember that he had deliberately dodged the subject.

_**10.01, USA Central Time**_


	3. In Which Italian is Learned

_**I tweaked my own bloodline, actually, for Arya's character. I'm half German, one fourth French, one eighth Italian, and one eighth **__Irish__**. So I switched the amounts around (heck, I'm not even sure I have the right order of mine, although I know the half German part IS correct) and made it English instead of Irish, 'cause heck, its funnier that way. **_

_**November 16, 2014**_

_Arya's POV:_

"-OH HELL NO YOU BASTARD, GET BACK HERE!"

"Vee! ROMANO I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY! PLEASE STOP CHASING ME!"

**CRASH!**

**THUD!**

**BANG!**

**BOOM!**

"Oh I can't _wait_ to hear the explanation for this one…" I muttered, pulling the pillow down from over my ears and glaring at the window. Looking at my beside clock, it was at least 10 in the morning, _way_ past when I'd usually get up. Grabbing a larger pillow, I shuffled down to the kitchen, only to see the two nation brothers running around the counter, both screaming. Romano seemed to be the angrier of the two, whilst Italy was just trying to flee from the older Italian's wrath. I sighed, then stepped forward and KOed them both with the pillow. "I'M TRYING TO SLEEP DAMNIT!" Romano was the first to sit up, holding his head and looking angry as he pointed at me. "Listen up you little _krautlet_, I'm not having another idiot German in the house no matter what my little brother says, so get out of the town!" Italy sat up next to him, pouting. "Vee Romano, she's my friend!"

"I don't care about that, the potato bastard's taken over enough of my life as it is!"

"But Germany's the best-"

"OH THAT'S IT, I'M SO GONNA PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE!"

"Vee, STOP CHASING ME ROMANO!"

I sighed, watching them start up all over again. "Actually Mr. Romano, I'm half German and a fourth Italian." I pointed out as they streaked by me, and both comically skidded to a stop, Romano half-strangling Italy from his grip on the other Italian's collar. "Wait, so what's the other fourth?" he asked suspiciously, and I squinted. "Uh…one eighth French and one eighth…English?" I said slowly, squinting as I attempted to remember my family genealogy. "Yeah, one eighth French and one eighth English." _Yeesh. My family ancestry is two bloody yaoi pairings._ I thought with a sweatdrop, and Romano let go of Italy and resumed his ever-present scowl. "Alright then _signora_, you'd better hope you take after the Italian half, otherwise I'm coming to get you!" he declared, pointing to me warningly. I deadpanned. "Duly noted."

He stalked off with his head held high, and Italy sniffed a few times, rubbing his head. "Vee~, why did you hit me?" he whimpered, and I had the decency to look ashamed. "Sorry, but you both needed to snap out of it." I said sheepishly, and he nodded, then beamed. "Vee~! That means you're related to Big Brother France too!" he said in excitement, and I blinked twice, then swallowed. "Erm…yeah…I guess so." I muttered, trying to be diplomatic and not immediately freak out and run in circles in a panicked craze. "So, wanna make pasta for br-" That was as far as Italy got before Romano stormed back in again, grabbed me by the elbow, and started dragging me off. "HEY WOAH WOAH WOAH HEY! THIS IS KIDNAPPING!" I shrieked as he made it out the front door, and his equally rude answer was "You really think I care?"

Okay, I really didn't have much of an argument with that. After all, the mafia did come from his part of the country. He dragged me an unknown distance –apparently the fan theory that Hetalia countries were a hell of a lot stronger than normal humans was true– before he let go. The countryside had changed enough that I had no idea where I was, and he whirled to point at me in a dramatic fashion. "Alright _krautlet_-"

"Arya."

"WHAT THE HELL EVER!" He glared at me angrily, his finger still aimed at me like the judgment of God. "YOU'RE TAKING FAR TOO MUCH AFTER THAT POTATO BASTARD, SO STARTING NOW, YOU ARE LEARNING TO BE AN ITALIAN!" he shrieked, and I raised an eyebrow. "Pasta…" I said in a falsely excited voice, and he glared at me even more. "That's my stupid brother, but I suppose you get an A for effort." he growled under his breath, and I chuckled sheepishly. He cracked his knuckles, then whipped out a small pocketbook as I frowned in confusion. _So when he left for those couple minutes, he was getting materials? _I thought in grudging amusement, and he clicked a pen before putting it to the paper. "As an Italian, what's your favorite food?"

_***Montage***_

I stared at the gun he was aiming at my head. "Uh…Romano…?" He thumbed the hammer with a squint of concentration. "Right, as an Italian, what do you do when someone's aiming a gun at you?" he asked me expectantly, and I sweatdropped. "You're threatening to shoot me as a visual aid?" _Click._ "ANSWER THE DAMN QUESTION!" he roared as he flicked the safety back. I smacked the gun out of my face. "I'D KICK YOUR SORRY ASS ALL THE WAY BACK TO WHEREVER YOU CAME FROM BASTARD!" I snarled back, socking him in the face. He fell back comically, blood spurting from his nose as I shrieked in surprise. _I keep forgetting how being in an anime makes everything so dramatic!_ He sat up with a furious look in his amber eyes. "_TI STROZZO CON LE ME MANI SI PO KRAUTLET!_" he roared in Italian, and I yelped as he began chasing me around the field. "SHIT! I'M SORRY ROMANO! I'M SORRY!"

* * *

><p>"Britain's coming after you with an army! As an Italian, what do you do?!" Romano yelled at me as he slammed his lunch on the table in front of me, tucked into a shady corner of the garden in the back yard of Italy's large house. I had just taken a bite of pasta, which is all Italy ever made, and quickly chewed and swallowed. "Use guerilla tactics, fade into the woods or surrounding terrain, and kick his ass. You do forget, I'm from America. We were one of the first to personally do so." I said flippantly, pointing my fork at him. He shrieked in rage and upended the table as I frantically starting trying to catch my flying tableware.<p>

* * *

><p>"DAMNIT, NO NO NO!" I looked up as Romano rushed out from the woods and snatched up the remnants of the white flag he had given me. I had just untied the handkerchief from the stick and began trying to make fire with both, as he had dumped me in the middle of nowhere. He began reassembling it frantically, then threw it down at my feet and glared at me with murder in his eyes. "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO SURRENDER WITH THE DAMN FLAG, NOT USE IT FOR FIRE-STARTING!" he roared, and I sweatdropped. "Dude…there's no one around here to surrender to." I said, deadpan. He choked, and I watched him in bemusement as he turned to the nearest tree and began beating his head on the trunk, swearing in Italian as he did so.<p>

_***Montage End***_

Romano sat, slumped, at the kitchen table in Italy's house, his face flat against the wood. "I give up…teaching you to be Italian is too much of a balls suck." he groaned, and I sweatdropped. "Dude…it's only been a week." I said slowly from across the table, writing in my journal. "WELL ITS BEEN A VERY LONG WEEK!" I chuckled a bit at that one, but soon looked back down as something came to me. "Hey Romano…you know, I can speak a bit of German, but no Italian." He raised his head slightly, a very familiar gleam in his amber eyes. I waited patiently, putting away my pen and journal as he slunk out of the room, his doom cloud momentarily lightened. I looked at the waterproof watch I had gotten a few days ago. _Five, four, three, two_- The door slammed open and Romano grinned ferally. "ALRIGHT KRAUTLET, TIME TO LEARN ITALIAN!" I chuckled a little bit. _Called it._

_3__rd__ Person POV:_

Arya yawned, sitting up the last few minutes needed to complete the entry for that day.

_Dear Me:_

_Day 9, "Hetalia" Reckoning_

_(Song)Quote for the Day: _

"_The grass is always greener on the other side," –Quote_

_Ugh, Italian is so much harder than German. Romano and I have been going over various nouns since dinner, and my head feels like Hungary hit me with her frying pan. I feel like I should be trying to get home more, but honestly, between Romano trying Ito brainwash me into being Italian and Italy trying to get me to try every kind of pasta ever made on this earth, I haven't had much time to do anything. _

_It's a bit weird, but I haven't met anyone except Romano, Italy, and Germany so far, although I thought I saw Spain one time when Romano came to visit. He seemed to be in a big hurry to get out of the house and in a worse temper than usual, so I suppose it probably was him. I won't ask either Italy or Romano about England, since they're still both petrified of him, even if it's about fifty years after WW2, and I don't remember which other two were part of the "Magic Trio"…I think it was Romania and Norway? Either way, since I never managed to find and watch the fourth season, I wouldn't know if Norway would help me. Britain probably would…if I asked really, really nicely. He is a gentlemen after all. Can't cheat and ask wiki about character bios here either; I tried, and "Hetalia" doesn't register with anything, and the countries…well, they come up as countries. I don't know many of their human names, and can't spell most of those I do know, but when I typed __**those **__in it came up blank too._

_The more I hang out with the Italy brothers, the more I realize how weird it is that I have Italian, German, French, and English blood. FrUK and GerIta runs through my veins, although I don't even want to guess what Romano would do if he found out about the latter. FrUK, he'd probably use as blackmail, or something equally humiliating for both. But GerIta…dear god. I don't even want to think about it. Well, that's really all; I plan to restart training with Germany sometime soon…we'll see how well that goes over with Romano. _

_Things I Want To Do in "Hetalia":_

_Learn German –this is a chance to finish out, since I couldn't ask for a better teacher than Germany himself._

_Learn Japanese –if this happens again, it might be in Higurashi (god forbid) or another Japanese-speaking anime, and I need to be able to communicate._

_Learn Italian –hell, if I ask the other two, might as well ask Italy to learn his mother language. _(Have started.)

_Get in shape –It's one of my best chances to do so, since I can train with Germany, Italy, and Japan, all of whom I admire. _(Started, but due to Romano I haven't been able to come with Italy to Germany's house in a while.)

_Learn self-defense –I can learn how to wield a katana from Japan, that'd be __**so**__ badass. Maybe even ask Switzerland how to shoot a gun. _

_Learn Magic –Britain could maybe teach me a little when he's figuring out how to get me home. That would be so __**sweet**__._

She closed the book after having finished her entry, placing it on her nightstand and snuggling into the down covers.

**_9.57 AM, USA Central Time_**


	4. In Which The Plot is Started

_***sigh* At this point, I'm trying not to get to my main plot device/conflict/what-have-you started too early, but its surprisingly hard. I dunno. Character input for you guys? Is it going too fast, or should I speed it up? Ehehehe…I'm always nervous trying a new fandom, even when I feel perfectly calm doing something similar in a fandom I've been working in for a while. (i.e. Hellsing or Soul Eater) Speak now or forever hold your peace. (In other words, I'll just do whatever pleases me and not take you guys into account at all.)**_

_**November 17, 2014**_

_Arya's POV:_

Okay, this was it.

I was dead.

I darted around a corner, then plastered myself to the wall and dove inside a large group of bushes, panting hard. _This is the absolute worst, more horrible thing that I could ever hope for in the Hetalia universe._ I thought in terror as I began to army-crawl through the shrubbery, sweat cooling and drying on my body. _It's horrible, horrible, there is something __**wrong**__ with that evil, damned creature_- An ominous rustle behind me indicated pursuit, and I turned white and sped up in my army crawl. I reached the end of the bushes, and relaxed as I saw Germany yelling at Italy near the park bench where we usually met, somewhere in Munich. Suddenly a branch broke behind me, and I froze and turned around. There he was, my archnemesis, the Evil Incarnate upon this world. I did the only reasonable thing any Hetalia fan would do under the circumstances, and ran for it.

"SHIIIIT! DOITSU! FUCKING DOITSU!"

Germany turned around, and I launched myself at him and somehow monkey-climbed up to his shoulders as he shouted in surprise and staggered at my abrupt entrance, me balancing awkwardly on his shoulders as he miraculously managed to stay upright. "ARYA! _WAS ZUR HÖLLE_?!" he bellowed, and I pointed a shaky finger at my four-legged nemesis. "DAMNED BEAST! EVIL, VILE SON OF SATAN! BEGONE MONSTER, FOR I HAVE A GERMANY! BEGONE I SAY!" I shrieked, and both he and Italy stared in amazement as the mid-size dog wandered out from the bushes and barked at us. Germany looked up, to where I was frantically perching on his shoulders in comic anime-fashion. "Erm…Arya…you do realize it is just a little dog, _ja_?" I stabbed a finger venomously in the dog's direction. "NOT JUST ANY DOG, A MONSTER FROM THE PITS OF HELL!" I shrieked, shaking hard atop my reasonably safe perch.

"Vee~, but Arya, he's just a nice little poodle."

Clearly they were not getting the level of urgency here. "EXACTLY! POODLES ARE THE EVIL INCARNATE UPON THIS EARTH! THEY'RE FUZZY AND CURLY IN ALL THE WRONG PLACES AND THEY LOOK LIKE SHAVED MOPS OR AFRO MODELS, THEIR EVIL LITTLE EYES JUST STARING AT YOU FROM THEIR PLACE SUNKEN IN THEIR LITTLE MOP-HEADS!" I wailed, and Germany, with a small exercise of effort, managed to pry me from his shoulders. "Look, just ignore him and let's get back to training." he reasoned as he put me on the ground, and I gave the poodle a deeply mistrusting look before practically sprinting off to the track. "WHATEVER! YOU WILL LEARN TO FEAR THE EVIL, YOU WILL LEARN! FOOLS! FLY WHILE YOU STILL HAVE LEGS!"

Hey, if you went through what I did, you'd fear poodles too.

It's a _very _long story, but the short and long of it was, when I was about eight, our farm suffered a bout of mysterious accidents. Tools misplaced, tack lost, things moved from one place to another, that sort of thing. I was convinced we had a ghost haunting us, and after much book-checking-out from the decrepit town library to learn the ghost-slaying trade, I started setting up traps. Generally, being as I was _eight_, they fell apart before they even had a chance to catch something, but I felt better for having done it. After about two months, I finally caught –you guessed it– a small black poodle, which had been scavenging at our farm. Problem? It had rabies, and the snare was apparently _just_ loose enough for it to tug free, so when I went to check…

Yeah…

Let's just say I quickly learned just how fast I could run, and also a hell of a lot about animal safety in the following days. (No, it didn't bite me. It just scared the living shit out of me.) _So_, despite Germany and Italy's assurances to the contrary, I did _not_ believe that poodles were harmless. I remained in a sulky fume –or at least as sulkily fuming one could get when running as fast as they physically could– for two whole laps, before exhaustion wiped out all thought and I had to pay attention to where I was going, lest I slam into one of the nearby trees or faceplant on the track. Germany, the green-military-wearing demon whom I was reasonably sure wanted to kill me dead, was behind me as usual, threatening to remove large portions of my anatomy, shoot me, or otherwise render me in large amounts of pain. He even threatened me with poodles a few times, accompanied by a noticeable spurt in my speed and an increase of my sweat, as well as his evil laughter.

Twelve laps of that later, which usually took about two hours, we went on to sit-ups. He stood there with a stopwatch, his military hat askew on his head and his pale blue eyes gleaming evilly, counting off for each sit-up I did. If I attempted to cheat or messed up in my form, he'd dump his water bottle on my head and bellow out an ear-shattering correction. After about a hundred of those, I was on to push-ups. He'd count off a rhythm, usually fast and merciless, and if my arms buckled or I got out of tune he'd dump the water on my face (again!) and roar at me until I got it right. After another hundred of those, I had to do pull-ups. He'd wait, like an evil, buff vulture, as I struggled to pull my chin over that metal bar, grinning madly to himself and scolding whenever I missed or failed to get my chin up to the specified line. He'd only make me do fifty of those, and then, thank God, it was time for lunch.

Much to my surprise, Germany was actually rather decent, but only when he was _not_ training. _Then_, the demon came out, and it was merciless. But when not training, he was actually a pretty decent guy. He'd quiz me on German pronunciation between bites, and slowly, what little I knew of the language expanded to the point I was comfortable speaking short conversations in it. He also explained the reason that Japan hadn't showed up since I came was that his country had slightly below-par economy right now, meaning Japan had the country equivalent of a cold. It wasn't _contagious_, per say, but Japan stayed home anyway, and nobody minded much. Much to my pleasure and slight surprise, one day when he told me to I flex my bicep to see what his training had done for me, I actually had muscle definition! I wasn't _ripped_, but I actually had _muscle_! I had immediately challenged him to an arm-wrestling match, and, perhaps predictably, he had almost instantly wiped the floor with me. My only consolation was that, for a split second as what felt like the weight of an entire mountain came to bear against my arm, I actually managed to slow him down.

"Hey _Deutschland_?" I asked as I took a bite of my sandwich. It was a sunny day in Munich, about a month or so after I had been sucked into Hetalia. "_Ich habe eine Frage._" He looked up. "_Ja_?" Italy was playing with the brown cat he sometimes had in the series, the one he dragged onto the Pictonian's ship with him, about fifty feet away in the meadow that the track circled. I cradled my chin and watched him as I continued eating absently. "Why is it that not a lot of countries are visiting? I mean, I know it's after WW2, but still…" I asked, looking at him askance, before glancing back to Italy. When I looked back to him, I was surprised to see that the look on his face was faintly alarmed. "_Was ist das_?" I asked in surprise, knowing he would be more likely to respond if I used German, his language. He sucked in a slow breath, taking off his cap and running a hand through his hair. By the time he replaced it, I was seriously alarmed. He tugged it straight, then looked at me piercingly. "Arya, have you noticed that Italy and his brother don't get much visitors?"

That seemed like a repetition of my own question, but now that I thought of it… "No, they don't get any visitors. Like, none." I answered in confusion, and he nodded. "But do they visit anyone, aside from me?" I opened my mouth, but realized…I had no idea. Italy sometimes talked about visiting one or another of his "big brothers", but that could have easily been Romano, and since he had never _mentioned_ which one… "I don't…_think_…so." I said slowly, something hard and cold settling in my center. Germany nodded and packed up the lunchbox Italy had given him. "Something, some kind of disease, has been spreading from country to country. They get…strange, they vanish, but they always come back, and when they do, they don't remember a thing. Sometimes they can remember feeling strange when the others noticed them acting oddly, but more often than not, they can't." he explained solemnly, and the pieces clicked suddenly. "Japan?!"

"He says he had been feeling strange lately, and thought it best that he stay away from us, in case he spread this –thing– to us."

Germany looked worried, and I didn't blame him; one of his friends had some kind of weird amnesia disease, and who _knew_ what happened when they disappeared?! Sure, they seemed fine when they got back, but it could be something awful! I swallowed hard and gathered my lunchbox up. "So…is anyone like, disappeared now?" I asked nervously. He looked around, his tense stance relaxing slightly as he saw Italy. "Britain was one of the first to get it, and he's missing right now. Spain disappeared too. Everyone else is either just back from a disappearance, or anxiously staying at home and _hoping_ they don't get it." he said disdainfully, and I bit my lip and nodded, sympathizing with his obvious agony. Germany didn't _like_ sitting at home and waiting, and yet in this situation, there was nothing for him to do but protect the ones close to him as best he could, and _pray_ they didn't catch this, this whatever-it-was. They was almost literally nothing for him to do but sit and wait.

_**8.03 AM, USA Central Time**_


	5. In Which There is a Car Chase

**_The plot thickens! And again I get the feeling I'm moving a bit too fast…but maybe not. Whatever. I'm writing this from my school iPad so…yeah. Watch out for misspellsings. _**

**_November 18, 2014_**

_Arya's POV:_

Italy was babbling happily beside me and still cuddling the small brown cat, while my hands were firmly on the driving wheel. I was lost in thought, chewing my lip as I worried over what Germany had told me._ Countries acting strangely…disappearing…then reappearing with no memories of the previous events…_ "Hey Italy?" I asked slowly, and he blinked and stopped cooing over his cat. "Vee, what is it Arya?" he asked cheerily. I looked out at the road. "Well…it's about the countries disappearing." He froze, and I saw the familiar expression of panic on his face. "Vee~! Arya, that's scary! Let's not talk about it, okay?!" he squeaked, shivering hard. I sighed. "Yeah…I guess. Do, um, do you think normal people can get it?" I asked with a thick swallow, and Italy squinted in confusion. "Vee…I don't think so. We don't hang out with normal people that much, so I don't think they would catch it anyways."

_Which means absolutely nothing as far as __**I'm **__concerned._ I thought sourly, and blinked as I realized we were on Italy's front drive. Seemingly, having a country in the car or somehow nearby when you traveled made the distances that much shorter. I pulled up and we both got out, and I sighed as Romano stormed out of the house and made his way to the driver's seat. "Keys." he said demandingly, and I tossed him the ring with a small Italian flag before sliding into the passenger's seat. Italy promptly went inside the house to eat pasta, paint, or whatever it was that he did when we went out. Romano jerked the car around with an angry motion, and I twiddled my thumbs absently, wondering if he would be a "safe" person to broach the subject too. "Um…Romano?"

"What?!"

_Jeez, who put a bee in his bonnet?_ I thought sullenly, then coughed once. "Um, Germany told me about the whole disappearance thing." He shrugged sourly. "Why should I care about that potato bastard?" he grumbled under his breath, turning another sharp right as I belatedly clutched the edges of the car. "Whoa dude! Don't crash us, I can't survive that!" I yelped and he glared at me savagely as he hung another sudden turn. "Uh…Romano?" He didn't answer, and by now I was getting worried. I twisted to look over my seat to see another car, and sure enough, as Romano made several more savage turns, it followed us with equal verve. "We're being followed, aren't we?" I asked with a sort of numb acceptance. "You bet your ass we are. Sit down before they see you." he grunted, grabbing me by the elbow and pulling. I sat, my thoughts running in hundreds of different directions at once. "Why are they chasing us?!" I squeaked in panic as I clung to my seat. He turned us sharply, using both hands on the wheel. "How the hell should I know?!"

_This isn't good._

"Can't we like abandon the car in an alley somewhere and run for it?" I asked desperately, and he snorted. "Running is for little _bambinos_!" he retorted, and I glanced in the side mirror. "They're catching up." A trickle of nervous sweat ran down his face. "Hey, I've got an idea. Why don't we ditch this rustbucket and run for it?" he said shakily, and I sweatdropped. _Damn cowardly Italian stereotype…_I thought with a sigh, then scanned the crowded road and pointed out an alley ahead of us. "Does that alleyway lead somewhere, or is it a dead end?" He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them. "_Si_, it leads to some other alleys and a road. Why?" I glanced behind us again. The black car following us was getting closer, close enough that I could see the outlines of the people inside. "Because when we come even with it, you're going to pull up suddenly and run inside."

He glanced at me suspiciously. "And what about _you_?" he asked. I could see a flicker of worry in his eyes and smiled a little nervously. "I'm going to open my door and run in the opposite direction. It'll give them two targets, if they're after both of us. Where are we?" He sped up slightly, the alleyway coming closer and closer. "Naples. Why?" I thought quickly. "What's the most famous tourist spot here?" He gave me a deeply offended glare. "YOU'RE TELLING ME YOU DON'T KNOW?!" I coughed pointedly. "I am American." He sighed and braced himself, preparing to brake. "Castel Nuovo. Let me guess, we're meeting there when we lose 'em?" I nodded and did the same. "Yup." He gave me a cocky salute. "See you there, _fanciulla_."

Then everything happened all at once. Romano slammed on the brakes, and I felt my seatbelt carve into my torso as we lurched forward, and then I was unbuckling myself and Romano was already gone and I was darting out onto the street and I saw several someones in dark outfits run towards him– As I began running, listening for pursuit, I realized something startling. _They aren't following me. Why aren't they following me?_ I thought in surprise, looking behind me to see an empty street. The answer seemed obvious. _Because, for whatever reason, they're going after Romano instead._ I thought with gritted teeth, then skidded to a stop. "Damnit!" I snarled, punching the dirty brick wall. _I hate my sense of loyalty._ I thought with a weary sigh, turning back towards the street where we'd left our car. Before the sane, rational part of my brain could protest, I was climbing up onto the flat roof of one of the buildings lining the alley and running after him. _This is insane!_ I thought as I ran, heart pounding in my chest.

Before long, I came to a crossroads, and luckily, I saw several people chasing after something –almost certainly a grumpy Italian personification– on the left side. I turned that way and ran after them, eventually drawing away from the brink as I grew near, then passed them. I did _not_ want to meet up with these people, whoever they were. I blinked as I saw Romano's familiar brunette head of hair below me, and he took a sharp left –right into a dead-end alley. He screamed a curse in frustration, but I saw an opportunity to lose our pursuers. "_Psst_! Romano!" I whisper-yelled down, and he looked up. I crouched down and offered my hand; without hesitation, he jumped up on a dumpster and took it, and I frantically began trying to haul him up, hearing the sounds pounding feet getting closer and closer. He was too heavy, he was too heavy, oh my god, he was too heavy-

With a burst of strength only panic could give, I hauled him completely over the edge just as the pounding steps reached the alleyway. We lay there, side by side, Romano panting heavily as I did the same, both of us trying to be quiet. Our feet were mere inches away from the brink, and luckily out of sight. Panting somewhat under control, I held a finger to my lips as he nodded empathically. Neither of us could make a sound, or they'd find us instantly. I heard a muttered curse below us, and a wrenching screech as they slammed open the dumpster Romano had stood on to try and get up and began to search through it. Romano looked terrified, and I didn't blame him. I was about ready to piss myself, and they weren't even after _me_. I put my finger to my lips again, making frantic motions to imply silence, and slowly, carefully, began to army-crawl away from the lip of the roof. After a brief second, I heard the tiny rustle of clothes-on-concrete that was Romano following, easily covered by the rapidly escalating Italian curses and searching sounds below and behind us. Once we had gotten far enough away, without a word, we both stood and ran out of there like a full pack of Germanys in his worst training-mode ever were following us.

_***Time Skip***_

"You cannot seriously be telling me that there would be no reason for someone to come after you." I said in disbelief as we drove home, putting a Band-Aid on the elbow I had scraped when pulling him up. "It's the truth!" he snapped anxiously, his face still slightly pale, but having regained his usual bad-tempered expression. "I dunno who they were or why they were coming after me, so you'd better believe it _krautlet_!" I sighed and conceded the point. We had both been rattled, and snapping at each other wasn't going to help. "Sorry dude, but the way they went after us really says "angry mobsters". And it had to have been something you did, 'cause when we split up all three of them went after _you_ instead of me. I mean, unless they didn't know you were a country, which is a whole other argument, I would have been the better target. I'm young, female, and I obviously had no idea where I was going." I pointed out as we approached Italy's house, and he nodded stiffly. "Which means they either knew about me being a country or they were after me for some specific reason." he murmured as we pulled up, and I sighed and unbuckled my seatbelt.

"Italy! I'm home!" I called as I entered, watching Romano go to his car and pull out again, heading towards the south of the country. I put the keys in the little dish we used to hold them, and blinked in surprise as Italy stumbled down the stairs, yawning. "Vee~! Morning…Arya." he slurred, rubbing one eye. I smiled at him nervously. "Hey. Me and Romano had an exciting afternoon, how about you?" He smiled somewhat sleepily. "Vee, me? I was painting and fell asleep, so I didn't do anything this afternoon!" he chuckled, and I nodded and passed him as he headed to the kitchen, humming happily. I paused on the first stair. _Wait…isn't Italy's painting room on the first floor?_ I thought as I frowned, looking over my shoulder. He was happily flitting around the kitchen, regaining more and more of his energy with every step. I smiled and chuckled to myself. _Jeez, stop being so paranoid. He probably went upstairs afterward to hang it up or something. _I thought reasonably, then went upstairs to take a nice long shower. I deserved it after all this madness.

_**8.06 AM, USA Central Time**_


	6. In Which a Clue is Found

**_And it all comes together…sorta. I still think I'm moving a bit too fast…_**

**_November 19, 2014_**

_Arya's POV:_

I pressed myself up against the old brick wall, my heart pounding against my ribs. _How the hell do I keep finding myself in these situations?_ I thought to myself with a sort of dizzy terror, taking in a deliberately long, and more importantly _silent_ breath through my nose to try and calm myself down. I was wedged between an old metal dumpster and the building it was collecting scraps for, listening to the whispered conversation in the alleyway ahead of me. Most of it was in a language that I didn't know, but I caught more-than-frequent Italian words, and it didn't take Einstein to figure out that whoever they were, they were most likely the guys that had chased and nearly run down me and Romano yesterday. I didn't dare move, and I hardly dared to breathe; because the first thing that they had done upon entering the alleyway was scare the bum out, and from what I had heard, one of them had used some kind of flick-knife or something to do the scaring.

How did I find myself in this damning situation? Well, it started with Italy going into town to buy some more paints. Even though I was more than a bit afraid of venturing out after what had happened with me and Romano, my fears were also a good reason to accompany Italy, in case the same thing happened to him. God knows what they'd do when they caught him, as they undoubtedly would if he was alone. Thus, I tagged along. Italy certainly didn't mind, chattering about this and that as he happily drove along, with absolutely no care nor concern for pedestrians and other cars. The other cars on the street were doing the same, and as I watched them swerve around the sidewalk and each other I realized why Romano's frantic driving hadn't gone amiss yesterday; hell, it was more relaxed than some of the maneuvers these people were trying and –miraculously– pulling off.

Once we had arrived outside the art shop, he had parked the car and happily flitted inside the shop. I had _planned _to sit in the car and watch for suspicious arrivals, but it suddenly occurred to me, that if they had known Romano's favored route to wherever the hell he took me to learn Italian, they might know Italy's favorite paint shop and set up to wait for him there, while I sat outside, completely clueless to whatever the hell they were doing to the poor nation. After that cozy little thought, I quickly unbuckled myself and opened the door, opening and closing the door and looking around for Italy. There were aisles upon aisles of art supplies, and I thought I saw his familiar curl bouncing happily along one of the farthest ones. I began to follow, trying to look all around me without _looking_ like I was searching for trouble, and was soon rewarded by my caution.

Firm footsteps sounded on the tiled floor; they sounded eerily similar to another set I had heard yesterday, but slower, more relaxed. _Well, it's not like he's chasing anyone __**now**__._ I thought savagely, and froze when I realized they were behind me. I whipped around, but to my immense relief, I saw a tan hat moving towards the entrance –the shelves blocked out anything below that, which, while keeping me from being spotted, also benefited him in the same way. I began to quietly follow, and the door opened and closed with a tinkle. I had just enough time to glimpse dark brown hair and a brown-tan outfit before he half-turned and I had to duck out of sight again. I was cautious as I opened the door myself, but it seemed he had kept walking. I anxiously scanned the crowd. _Now, where the hell __**is**__ he…_

_Found him._

Just as I spotted his shock of dark brown hair with the cap, my man stepped inside another alleyway and was lost to sight. I swallowed hard and silently moved across the street, dodging several wayward cars, and finally made it to the other side. I had just enough time to scoot behind the dumpster before a man with somewhat grungy clothes tumbled past, clutching a long, bleeding slash on his cheek. I went cold, and quickly wedged myself further into the small space as I heard something angrily shouted in Italian, probably a variant of "And stay out!" from the alley behind me. There was a chuckle, and the familiar bootsteps moved back into the shadow of the buildings.

"Was that really necessary, Luciano?" a male voice sighed. It had some kind of Mediterranean accent, but I wasn't sure if it was Italian or not. There was another evil little chuckle from Luciano. "Nah, but it was fun." he said in a slightly pronounced Italian accent. His voice was a bit more modulated than the others, but also slightly deeper. One of them rustled, as if they were shifting. "Where's Flavio?" the unknown first voice asked, and Luciano made an angry "tch" sound. "Why do we even need the _stupido_ anyway?!" he snarled, and the other one made an amused sound. "We don't _need_ him, but if we want to continue doing this quietly, he is imperative." he pointed out, and Luciano angrily kicked a rock. It skittered against my hiding place and I had to stifle a jump of fright. _That would get you caught for sure, and then where would you be? This Luciano dude doesn't sound friendly. _I thought to myself, swallowing hard.

Luciano obviously didn't care for this argument. "Flavio's useless. I'm telling you, if we just got L-" The other made an angry hushing sound. "How many times have I told you, Luciano?! Even if we did…_convince_ him, he'd make a wildly unpredictable ally! We're doing this like he told us; slow, quiet, and completely secret. If we take him, we take him _last_." Luciano muttered something angrily in Italian, and the other sighed in agreement. "I know you don't like this, but it's the best we can do." he reasoned, and Luciano began flicking something metal-sounding back and forth. _Is that a knife?_ I thought with a cold trickle of sweat, drawing in another slow, deliberate breath. It did me no good at all; I was still close to panicking.

There was a long silence as Luciano played with his knife, and suddenly I heard him say "She'll be expecting me back soon." in a sulky undertone. The other one chuckled. "Think of it this way; once you tire of her, you can use those knives you're so fond of…without restraint. No one will miss someone like her." he said with a malicious joy that made chills creep up and down my spine. Luciano snickered one last time, and I heard a click as he stowed his knife and his boots began to move back towards the entrance to the alley. The other waited a moment, perhaps to allay suspicions if someone had seen Luciano leave, and left as well. I waited another minute, then crept out of the alley, darted across the street, and hurriedly buckled myself in, just as Italy cheerfully made his way out of the shop, several paint cans and brushes in his arms. He dumped them all in the backseat, then closed the door and skipped up to the driver's seat, opening and closing the door and buckling himself in. "Vee~ Arya, sorry I took so long!" he chirped as he began pulling out, and I smiled nauseously. "Hardly noticed you were gone, dude."

_***Time Skip***_

We pulled up, and the cold knot in my chest relaxed as I saw the familiar, safe outline of Italy's house. "Want me to help get your stuff in?" I asked as I unbuckled my seatbelt, acting like the good guest, and he beamed happily. "Vee~, sure! And I'll make pasta for dinner!" I sweatdropped. "Can it be Alfredo at least?" He considered it for about half a second, then beamed. "Vee~, of course! Coming right up!" he called as he skipped up the drive, and I sighed and shook my head as I moved to the backseat of the car. As I began bundling up the paintbrushes, I noticed something out of place amongst the paint cans. I frowned and put the brushes down, reaching for it and moving the cans aside.

Something seized in my throat as I put the last can aside and the object gleamed in the sunlight. It was well-worn. Dark black handle. Silver chasing. Obviously very beloved. That was all very well and good if one was discussing a lighter or pen, but what was gleaming so innocently in the afternoon sunlight was, in fact, a folding knife. With trembling fingers, I reached down and picked it up. After a bit of fumbling, I found the catch, and with a disturbingly familiar _click_, a razor-sharp blade flicked out into the afternoon sun. There were still some very faint traces of dried crimson around one edge. Suddenly, everything made too much sense. _Countries getting strange mood swings and disappearing. The name "Luciano" given to an Italian man who loves knives, who has dark brown hair, and who wears a tan military hat. I never saw his face or his eyes, t-that's why he didn't seem familiar. Dear god, this isn't some strange amnesia disease, this is…this is…!_

Something inside me went cold. _Britain. Britain was the first to get the "disease". Which one of them knows the most about magic? Who's the most well-known of them all? Who's the most ruthless? Who would be able to come up with a plan to get them all into this "world" without the originals noticing?_ My terrified musings were cut short by a familiar cry. "Vee~, Arya! Come on inside already, stop fooling around with my paintbrushes! I can teach you to paint after we eat pastaaaa~!" Italy called happily from the kitchen window, and I looked up and managed to form a smile. "Sorry Italy, they just feel really soft! I'm coming!" I called back, then watched him close the window. I quickly folded the knife back in and set it down, brushing it carelessly to the floor to make sure it seemed like no one had touched it. I quickly gathered up Italy's art supplies, a steady sinking making itself known in my chest. _If what's been going on supports my conclusions –which it does– then that means __**they**__ know everything the originals do. Fucking hell…I can't even trust Italy any more!_

_**8.16 USA Central Time**_


	7. In Which Things are Coming Together

_***sigh* It's hard keeping Romano in character, because poor Arya needs an ally at this point, but since he's a total scaredycat like his brother (he just acts tough) he wouldn't really make a good one. However, at this point, she's taking what she can get whilst I attempt to keep him in his sort of "I'm scared out of my wits, but I still have to act like a man and tough it out" attitude that he'd most likely adopt in this situation…at least until he got desperate and started running away.**_

_Arya's POV:_

_Day 32, "Hetalia" Reckoning_

_(Song)Quote for the Day:_

"_Appearances can be deceiving." –Quote _

_Now that I'm reasonably certain of what's been going on, I'm going to start hiding this diary. No, scratch that, I'm not just going to hide it, I'm going to find a lock and __**lock**__ it. If my suspicions are correct, however, that probably won't do much against these guys. I wish I could ask Britain or one of the other Magic Trio for a spell to keep it from being opened or something, but I somehow doubt anything from Britain is trustworthy now, not to mention __**they've**__ probably "acquired" the other two from the Magic Trio as well, to keep someone from doing anything if they __**do**__ find out. _

_Speaking of, their activities seem to be on the down low so far, probably because they can't afford to get caught…which raises another question. Why __**can't **__they get caught? Why are they being so damned cautious? If anything is to be learned from the anime, all the Hetalia characters tend more towards the comedic than the militaristic, and since these guys were created and specifically altered to be murderers and psychopaths, in terms of a straight-out fight, sadly my money would be on the doubles instead of the originals…which probably means it isn't a question of actual, physical confrontation. If so, what is the problem?_

_Well, in a lot of the fanfictions, it's a matter of taking the countries by surprise, or by subterfuge on the doubles' parts, so possession must be difficult…? That might be it; if the victim is aware of what's going on, it might tip the scales just the little bit they needed to stay in control, and then if they told others about it, they could organize and figure out some way to prevent it from happening…_

_Yeah, that's probably why they're being so sneaky. Also, they seem to need the actual country in a ritual or area or something to be able to take over, since they chased after Romano with the intention to capture him, and since Romano hasn't been acting weird, his double must be relatively weak and needs help to take over…_

_Which leads me to another thing. The 2ps aren't even cannon! What the __**hell**__ are they doing here?! They shouldn't even exist at all! _

_But…I am in a Japanese anime __**world**__. The Hetalia "universe" isn't supposed to exist either, and yet here I am. I suppose this could mean that all these fictional worlds do exist, even the ones that were added on by fans or something like that, they're just not connected…You know, that makes more sense than I should credit myself for. But it does seem logical, and since most of the fanfictions I've read about them define the doubles as murderous, psychopathic, and ruthless, as well as desperate to take over their originals for one reason or another, that would give them an excellent motive for being here now._

_The only question would be __**how**__…_

_Britain could've been experimenting with weird magic, I guess, and his 2p influenced him towards a world-transport spell or another summoning spell gone wrong, then quickly took over when he wasn't expecting it…and after that it'd be child's play to help the others over… _

_But I don't think that's likely; Britain would probably be prepared for something just like that, if not his 2p specifically, when he was trying a spell to link dimensions together or whatever. That sort of thing can be very dangerous __**without**__ murderous doubles, and he's been a magician long enough he probably knows that. So, that leaves either brute force or something else weakening the barrier or what-have-you keeping the worlds apart…_

_Something like someone from neither world suddenly dropping in out of nowhere on the wings of a badly worked spell…_

_No, Germany said this started a few weeks before I zapped myself here; so it's not my fault. Thank god for th-_

My musings were interrupted by Romano slamming the door open and glaring at me. "Are you going to write in your diary all day like a schoolgirl, or come with me and learn some more Italian?! Come on _krautlet_, time's a wasting!" he barked, and I frowned and closed my journal with a sigh. I followed Romano outside to his black car and got in, my mind spinning with a dangerous new idea. _If what I remember about his 2p is correct, he's more of a fashionista than a killer…and I do need an ally. I'm under no illusions here; I'm a sixteen year old American with okay-ish strength and coordination against god-__**knows**__-how-old psychopathic country representations, all of whom could easily overpower me single-handedly, some of which know magic, and most of which know how to use a blade. Even if Romano's Italian, he's a country and he's the best I'm going to get for right now. Despite what they said about Germany, I don't trust him being able to hold out against Lutz, especially if he knew what I was planning. I don't know if they just sort of automatically assimilate knowledge of their 1ps when they take over, or if they're in a state of constant mind-meld and just __**know**__. I live in the same goddamned house as 2p Italy, I am __**not**__ letting them know I'm onto them. I wouldn't even survive the night._

"Hey Romano, you know about those guys that chased us yesterday?" I asked after a slow, deep breath, and he looked at me askance. "Why the hell do you want to talk about them!?" he snapped, and I swallowed hard. "I-I think they're connected to the disappearances and the amnesia and…stuff." I said lamely, looking down at my lap as I twiddled my thumbs, and he gave me a sharp look out of one amber eye. "You know something." he said. It was more of a statement than a question, so I didn't bother nodding. "I suspect something, and I have enough circumstantial evidence to give me reason to believe I'm right." I said briskly, and he nodded slowly, looking back at the road. "Well, now's the best time to say it without being listened in on, and it's not like I can ignore the fact someone attacked me in my own damn country. Tell me everything you know, _krautlet._"

And so I did. I left out the information about me being from a different dimension, phrasing my knowledge in the form of an urban legend I had heard about "personified countries" and the fact they had "second players", their evil alternate versions, and some vague descriptions of the more well-known ones, as well as the fact that the doubles looked eerily like their originals. He began to sweat a bit at that, and I continued, telling him about what I had overheard in the alley yesterday, as well as the knife that had been either carelessly dropped or misplaced amongst the original Italy's paint supplies. By the time I was ending, Romano's face was white and he was sweating profusely. "-and the fact that the other countries are separating due to the fear of catching this "disease" is working in their favor. They can take down whoever they want, and as long as they do it quietly and give them time to say that they're feeling weird, the others will give them a wide berth and be unlikely to visit. So…what do you think?" I asked, reaching down to take a swallow of the water by my feet. I hadn't spoken this much all at once in a long time.

Romano swallowed several times, his hands tight on the steering wheel. "I'm very sorry you showed up, _signora_." he croaked, wiping a trickle of sweat from his face. "It would have been a lot better to just not know this in the first place." I shrugged sheepishly. "Sorry man…trust me, I honestly would have preferred this to be an _actual _amnesia epidemic, or something like that. So you believe me?" He sighed and leaned back, piloting the car with just one hand. "It makes too much sense to be coincidence, not to mention one of those bastards yesterday did look a lot like my _stupido _brother…just…different." He shuddered, looking even more ashen, although he kept his "tough guy" façade up. I nodded sympathetically. "Supposedly, these doubles are the summation of all the bad things their originals did in the course of being a country, or are the negative thoughts they have, or their polar opposites, or, you know, something like that. I don't really remember." I said apologetically. _And there isn't a "one true thing" for the 2ps anyway. It's all fan theories, so even the same characters are all wildly different depending on who they are being written by or thought of._ I added silently.

Romano swore and hit the dashboard. "So we have no idea how to fight these bastards?!" I bit my lip, thinking, and slowly shook my head. "I don't really know. Probably not without England's expertise, or one of the other Magic Trio…and we can't even go out asking about it, because I don't know if these doubles can automatically read the minds of their originals, or they just find out when they take over, and I'm _not_ taking the chance. I live with one, don't forget. Italy's already been taken over at least twice, and he didn't even notice it." Romano nodded with a sort of savage amusement. "And we really don't want the first sign of them being onto us to be a knife in your back, _si_?" he snorted, and I shook my head vigorously. "Hell no."

He considered the road ahead of us. "So…that leaves us to figure it out on our own. Any excuses to offer to my dumbass brother and the potato bastard?" I turned and looked at him strangely. "What? _Why_?" He gave me a withering look. "We go and find some of the _idiotas_ who got themselves taken over, and _watch_ them like hell. We'll at least get a clue on what they're planning, if not on how to change them back." he said with his usual bite, and I blinked twice. _That's…actually pretty smart._ I took out my cellphone, the same one which had delivered the fateful message that had landed me in this mess. "I can call him and say you're taking me on a round trip of Italy to educate me on the culture." I suggested hesitantly, looking up at him. He considered it for a second. "What about your stuff?" he asked slowly, and I frowned. "I guess we could double back and get it. I can ask Italy to pack it for me-" He instantly shook his head. "Bad idea. Who knows what that double could slip in while we weren't around."

I bit my lip. _Damnit, he has a good point. _I thought in frustration, then blew out. "Well, I guess I can just figure it out later." I moved my thumbs over the keypad, then held the phone to my ear and waited for it to pick up. About two rings later, I heard Italy's cheerful voice. "_Vee~ Arya, what's up!_" I crossed my fingers for good luck as I began speaking. "Well, um, Romano's kinda offered/demanded to take me around Italy to help me learn your guys' culture, so…I might be gone for the next few weeks. Is my stuff mostly packed?" There was a moment of silence, and then he spoke again. "_Why are you going without me?_" he asked, and Romano and I exchanged sharp glances. Italy's voice, his actual, physical voice, hadn't changed, but he _sounded _different. He didn't have the cheery inflections or the bubbly pronunciation, and the question was _very_ out of character for him.

This was where several years of working a cheap hotel came in handy; the number of married men with mistresses was shamefully high, as were the drug addicts, and lying on the fly became an integral part of our job. But never anything this _big_, this life-threatening. "Well, someone's got to hold down the fort with Germany; he's worried sick, what with all this amnesia stuff going around." _Keep it simple, don't shy away from subjects, especially if they have reason to suspect you're hiding something to do with those subjects. Answer quickly, but not too quickly. Don't hesitate. Most importantly, include a small grain of truth in the lie to make it believable. _"You're the best one for the job after all, you're his best friend, and Japan's out sick. You can do that, right?"

There was a tense moment of silence from our end, then Italy's normal happy voice came through the other end. "_Vee~, of course! You can count on me Arya, I'll make sure that meany Germany doesn't do anything dangerous! Who knows, maybe he won't even make me run around in circles anymore!_" I forced a chuckle out. "I highly doubt it. Bye!" We both clicked out, and I immediately let out a sigh and closed my phone, slumping back against the seat. "That was stressful." Romano nodded as he turned us around, also sweating profusely. "That wasn't my brother –well, that wasn't _just_ him." he croaked, and I nodded rapidly. "At this point, I think my suspicions are pretty much confirmed." I said fearfully, and he gave a terse nod of agreement. "Hell yes they are. That phone call would've convinced me anyway –my brother just doesn't _sound like that._" he said with great feeling, and I shuddered along with him. There was a sense of something _wrong_ whenever we heard a 2p speak, even through their original; as if their very voices carried some of their psychotic, evil taint. Well, now that we knew what something was going on, all we had to do was stop them.

Hehe.

_All. _

I sighed and let my forehead thunk against the dashboard.

_We're fucked._


	8. In Which Arya and Romano Arrive

**_November 21, 2014_**

_Arya's POV:_

I had agreed to Romano's plan with very little forethought of my own –in retrospect, I just assumed that we'd "go over to the infected countries", have a look around, and then be back in Italy before dinner, but on _Romano's_ side of the country. The bonus of that "plan" was that we'd actually be where the second players _expected _us to be, in case they had a watch on us or something equally plan-compromising. What the plan entailed, in reality, was going to an Italian airport in Romano's country, checking in under fake passports –I wasn't going to ask where he got them– that renamed us as "Felix" Vargas and "Ari" Thompson. My last name was generic enough that he didn't have to change it, and apparently the same went for his own, at least in Italy. The so-called Felix and Ari were cousins, me from America and him from (obviously) Italy, and we were both going to Japan for a tour on…something. He just grunted when I asked him what our excuse was, but I assumed it was as solid as the rest of his solid, but not brilliant, plan. I certainly couldn't think of anything better; and I certainly differed to him in matters of being sneaky. Bellhop lying could only get one so far, especially when there was an almost scripted reply amongst our ranks that you learned for most inquires.

But anyway, the plan _I_ had thought of when Romano had mentioned this earlier was certainly _not _staring out the window of a plane for around twelve hours while he, comfortably slouched in his seat, snored his head off. Apparently whatever made travel super-fast when with a country was at least partially negated when they were not doing the driving and in the air, nor in any great hurry themselves. It was extremely vexing, especially when I had nothing to do but write in my journal, being as most of my books were at Italy's house. My nerves were slightly on edge as well, since my family's apathetic nature meant I had never flown on a plane before…ever. It was a great deal more fun than I had expected, despite the combination of nerves and boredom. I rather enjoyed traveling. Romano was nice enough about my small panic attack when I realized when I was boarding a plane, insofar as, once he had bodily dragged me to my seat and buckled me in, he had told me there was nothing to worry about.

He had also grumpily said, once I had gathered my wits enough after takeoff and asked about self-defense, that he had absolutely no idea how to teach any kind to me. Being a country, he relied more on his brute strength (when he actually did fight…which I doubted) and his ability to just plain _not die_ to win most fights. So, for the moment, I was still going to be pretty much useless in a straight-out fight, unless I could brain my opponent with a rock or something when they got close. My throwing sucked. After that disappointing revelation, I was forced to listen to him snore –being Italian, he was always looking to take a nap somehow, somewhere– for the next few hours before I discovered the delight of the in-flight movies. That occupied me long enough that when my own eyelids began to flutter, I was more than ready to snatch a quick wink of sleep. So thinking, I curled up against the opposite edge of the seat and snagged a pillow, stuffing it under my head and closing my eyes. Almost instantly I fell asleep.

_***Time Skip***_

"So this is Japan?" I asked as Romano elbowed his way through the crowd, dragging his suitcase and my bag away from the luggage carousel. He shrugged it off his shoulders and tossed the bag to me; I caught it with an "oof" of surprise. "Yeah yeah, this is that idiot Japan's country. First things first, let's find our home base!" he snapped, and I shrugged and fell in step beside him. Using a credit card that I suspected did not belong to him, he rented us a car that took us to WAY out in the Japanese countryside; I spent most of the trip looking at the new sights. We stopped next to a very quaint hotel, and Romano got out, quickly followed by me and the cabby –or whatever the Japanese equivalent was– with his suitcase. The drive had taken about two hours and several hundred dollars (I assumed it was at least that much, since Romano looked very put-out for the fraction of the second it took him to remember that the money wasn't his), so it wasn't just Romano that was ferociously hungry. I had noticed that since we got off the plane that his mood dropped sharply, corresponding exactly to the sudden lack of things to eat. My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I was also really, _really _hungry.

Romano signed us in, again under our fake names, and, after collecting our keys, we trooped up to our room. Yes, _room_ as in the singular. It was one large room with two beds at the edges a nightstand with a lamp in between, and another smaller "room" that included a toilet, a sink, and a tiny, tiny shower. I stared at it in dismay for about five minutes as Romano carelessly dropped his suitcase by one of the beds, claiming it for his own, then flopped down on top of it and began to snore. My right eye began twitching. _Seriously, how does he not get insomnia or whatever; he must've slept for at least fifteen hours straight by now!_ I thought incredulously to myself, mechanically dropping my own bag by the remaining bed. A knock on the door startled me, and I went to answer it, but paused. I peeked through the little eyehole that let you check visitors –no, it wasn't any of the second players. I didn't recognize the woman, but she seemed to be wearing the same uniform as the man at the front desk, so maybe she was a maid or something, come to clean.

I opened the door. "Um, our room is clean-" I said hesitantly, and she smiled and shook her head. "_Ie, ie, _I am for to offer you food." she said in clipped but correct English, and I blinked and then nodded rapidly, chuckling sheepishly as my stomach growled hungrily. "Uh, yeah, thanks. Erm, _arigato._" I said belatedly, and she nodded and gave me two rather largish boxes from which a distinctly seafood-ish smell emanated. I thanked her again, assuming that the bill for this was put on our tab, and closed the door. Once she was safely down the hall, I locked it, because you never knew. I turned, only for the box to be grabbed out of my hands by a fiendishly hungry Romano. I stared at him as he opened the box, expertly broke the chopsticks, and began wolfing down food. "Uh…dude…weren't you asleep?" I asked dumbly, my mind slowly spinning in circles. _Does he just have a freaky spider-sense when it comes to food being nearby?_

He grunted and jabbed the chopsticks at me, then at my bed, and I correctly took the hint that I was supposed to sit down, shut up, and eat. I did so, and was surprised to note that, although I didn't really like seafood, this wasn't half bad. We ate in silence, and by the time we were both done Romano had –luckily– regained at least the pretense of civility. "Alright _krautlet, _Japan's probably going to be taken over by this stage, so we obviously don't just walk to his front door and knock. I know the layout of his house thanks to my stupid brother, so what do you suggest for watching that copy-freak-man?" he asked me briskly, unfolding a map he had kept in his back pocket and spreading it out over his knees. I leaned forward, seeing that it was hand-drawn, probably from memory, but very thorough nevertheless. It even included various plants and bushes around Japan's yard. I squinted and tried to jog my own memory. "From what I remember, Japan's second player is honorable to the point of extremes, and he's affiliated with the Yakuza –the Japanese equivalent of the mafia. He's supposed to be cold, ruthless, and occasionally perverted, although he's very…sneaky about it." I said slowly, becoming hesitant as I drew on those last bits of knowledge, as I wasn't at all sure about them and it seemed to vary greatly from writer/depicter to writer/depicter.

Romano's scowl grew deeper. "Not good. So, we should probably stay hidden?"

"Probably."

_**8.22 PM, USA Central Time**_


	9. In Which Spying is Done

_**Whew. Okay, so it's the weekend now and I may or may not being slowing production down to every other day, or some such thing, as I feel my chapters need a bit more polish before I fling them out into the wide wide world. I also feel Arya's spending far too much time with Romano, she needs a new character to interact with. So…well, you'll find out for yourselves soon enough. The fact that next week finals are due and I still have a ton of homework missing also factors into this equation somewhat. **_

_**November 22, 2014**_

_Arya's POV:_

I wiggled slightly, lifting my head the tiniest inch to peek over the leaves blocking my vision. A gap in the thick greenery was conveniently positioned about an inch about my eye level, so that I had to concentrate very hard to keep the movement inconspicuous, not to mention stop myself from straining something in my neck. We were currently hidden inside a large group of plants that Japan had out in front of his house; luckily, as it was the middle of summer, they still had most of their foliage and provided excellent cover. Romano was on his stomach, completely hidden, as was I, both of us less than a foot apart so that we could whisper back and forth without getting caught. He was making use of a lower gap in the leaves to spy on our target…or the lack thereof. Apparently Japan had gone out to do something several hours before we had snuck up to the house, which was a lucky break for us to get into position. Hopefully, we'd stay hidden when he returned.

Romano edged closer just slightly. "Why aren't we searching the house?" he hissed under his breath, flicking his eyes towards the empty driveway and back to me, glowing in frustration. I glared at him. We'd had this conversation several times already. "Because if he comes back suddenly he might catch us, and if we disturb anything he'll _know _someone was around searching for something! Besides, nobody ever remembered getting something, so the curse or the what-have-you that's bringing them over probably isn't attached to an object!" I hissed back with equal frustration, and he scowled sullenly and looked back towards the driveway. Still nothing. He jabbed me with his elbow. "_I'm telling you-_"

"Kesesese~! WHAT'S UP LOSERS! I **FOUND **YOU!"

High strung as we both were, spying on a possible homicidal maniac in a friend's body, we both jumped about a mile in the air and screamed at the sound. Romano shrieked almost exactly like a little girl, with me not far behind, and it took me half a second with my heart in my mouth to recognize the uproarious laughter and accented voice behind us as almost certainly not belonging 2p Japan. We both turned, murder and panic clashing in our eyes, to see an albino man in a blue military uniform sitting on the grass behind us, laughing his ass off. Romano looked angry enough to be nearly frothing at the mouth, but before either of us could make a move we heard the crunch of a car driving up Japan's drive. We both looked at each other, then the Prussian. The message in his eyes was clear, and I reluctantly nodded. "OH MEIN GOTT, YOU FUCKING LOSERS SHOULD'VE SEEN YOUR FACES-"

Before Prussia could even register the determined look in our eyes, we had both grabbed him by the collar and wrenched him forward, yanking him into the bushes and pinning him down between the two of us. We were again laying on our stomachs in more or less the same spot, the only difference being a slightly surprised country was wedged between us. With both our hands knotted in his collar, keeping him down, he looked from one to the other and grinned evilly. "Kesesese, a threesome? I'm flattered, but the awesome Prussia does not-" I hit him on the head, hard enough that he cut off his sentence with a curse and I felt the impact in my bones as he glared at me and rubbed his head. "The awesome Prussia is going to get us all caught by a homicidal Japan look-alike!" I hissed at him, trying to instill _some _measure of urgency into him. His dark crimson eyes widened. "Seriously?! I thought Japan was out sick, shouldn't you losers be inside with him if zat psycho-"

I didn't have the time nor the inclination to explain everything, as the car rolled ever closer to us, but I did my best. "Japan's been taken over by an evil twin version of himself and we're spying on him to see if we can free Japan, and all the other countries that got sick with the amnesia disease have probably been taken over too, so will you _please _be quiet?! If they catch us, they'll probably kill me and change you both into your evil alternate selves!" He blinked at me twice, then whispered loudly to Romano. "Wow, this chick is nuts. Can you actually believe this sh-" Romano cursed frantically and boxed Prussia's ear. "Shut up, _stupido_! He's coming!" he whispered, sounding near panic, and I peeked through my opening of leaves to see the car door pop open. Prussia stopped rubbing his ear and muttering things in German and stared as the inhabitant got out, his already white face going even paler; I didn't blame him.

An Asian man with black hair, cropped in nearly exactly the same style as the original Japan's, and wearing an inverted uniform of the Japanese Imperial Navy, was getting out of the car. He had a katana dangling at his hip and a parcel in his opposite hand. I couldn't tell his eye color from this angle, but I was fairly certain it was a red, much like the color of blood. But more than anything else, he radiated an aura of _wrong_, even though he physically looked no more out of place than the original Japan, on a rustic property in the middle of the country. Ever so slowly, Prussia leaned closer to me and whispered in my ear "So, _fraulien_, what exactly did you say about zis guy?" I looked at him; he sounded like he was rattled, which was unheard of. I held a finger to my lips and made tiny motions enjoying absolute stillness. Prussia nodded quickly and flattened himself to the ground, like he was trying to physically melt through the solid earth. He reminded me of a scared puppy trying to blend into his surroundings.

"Japan" moved around the car and began walking towards the house –bringing him closer to us. I felt Prussia start to tremble slightly as that source of _wrongness _came closer, and as I stretched out a little to check on Romano, he was shaking. _Although, since they're countries and I'm not, the second player's…evilness…must be getting them straight in the teeth. I get the lesser vibes 'cause I'm only a human, but __**he's**__ like pure evil and I can sense that. Their sort of corruption affects everyone. At least, I think it does. Maybe they can hide it to help themselves blend in._ I thought with a soft gulp, then nudged Prussia. He stopped trembling, and I motioned with my eyes towards Romano, trying to convey reassurance. Luckily, the former country got the hint and tugged on Romano's hair –not his curl, thank god– and gave the terrified Italian a thumbs up when he glanced towards us. He probably grinned at him, but my attention was focused on Japan's double.

Suddenly the faint hum and buzz of a phone going off echoed towards us, and 2p Japan stopped, a disgruntled look on his face. He did something strange at this point –he carefully unclipped his katana, then placed it behind a cherry tree in Japan's yard, and placed the parcel behind the same. After that, he walked back to the car and stood in front of one of the side mirrors. Something black and vaporous leached out of him as he sagged a little, and suddenly he was Japan again; the real, original, slightly confused Japan. Prussia and Romano stiffened in surprise, staring at the other country, but I watched the "smoke", and was rewarded. Like it was being sucked in, it hovered over the car mirror and funneled down towards it, the mirror's surface seemingly absorbing the misty black cloud until not a scrap remained. Japan meanwhile, had discovered his ringing phone –and how the _hell_ had their uniforms changed?!– and pulled it out, putting it to his ear. "_Moshi moshi_?"

I nudged the other two as Japan began talking to one of his bosses. "Did you see the mist? It went into the mirror." I whispered to them, and Romano frowned as Prussia scratched his chin. "So you're saying…" he began expectantly, clearly having no intention of figuring it out on his own, and Romano chewed on his lip. "Mirrors? Do you think _that's_ how they get over?" he hissed to me, and I shrugged. "I dunno, maybe it's just –hey, look at Japan!" We all turned, and the eastern nation was putting his phone away calmly. He suddenly froze, his brown eyes going glazed, and the black mist flowed out from the mirror, enveloping his face and rapidly scanning down his form. By the time it was done, 2p Japan resolutely set out for the house again, picking up his katana and parcel as he did. We waited about five minutes, then crept out of the bushes and silently, but quickly, made our way to whatever transport we had stashed nearby.

_***Time Skip***_

"So wait, you're serious?!" Prussia asked incredulously as he poured himself another round of _sake_. We were holed up in a bar near the town where Japan's house was; Prussia had decided that this tremendous shock warranted alcohol. A _great_ _deal_ of alcohol. Romano sat on his right, not being partial to _sake_ or getting drunk, and I sat on his left, too young to drink alcohol at all. This was the third time we had run through what we knew, and it was getting hard to keep quiet about it and not shout it in the Germanic (former) nation's ear. Romano answered this time, not moving from his slumped position where his cheek rested on his hand. "Listen you dumb bastard, we're serious. Any idiot who saw that copy would've known we were for real; what's left to guess at?" Prussia scowled and downed a glass; he seemed intent on getting plastered. "What my problem is, is the fact you _dummkopfs_ haven't called a World Meeting about it; ze other countries would want to know!" he shot back, and Romano facepalmed. I rubbed my temples with my forefingers, where a migraine was developing. "Prussia, we don't know if the doubles can read the original's mind, and the last thing we want for them to know is that we're onto them. You wanna get killed by Italy? Lemme tell you this, his 2p's a nightmare. He plays with knives, he's literally a gangster, he's cunning, manipulative, and utterly sadistic; you want someone like _that_ after you, wanting revenge?"

Prussia sipped his _sake_ and didn't answer. I continued angrily, beginning to gesture to make my point. "And it isn't just him; nearly all the other doubles are just as murderous in their own ways; England's knows _magic_, for Christ's sake! If we try and fight them without planning something beforehand, we're going to get ourselves killed or _worse_! Do you know what happens when a country gets possessed, 'cause I sure as hell don't! What if you get sent to _their _world, which is probably just as evil and alternate as they are?!" I spat angrily, jabbing my finger at the counter to get my point across. It wasn't the best speech I made, and I was pretty sure some of it made no sense, but I certainly hoped it convinced him of our urgency. He finally drained that glass too and set it down on the counter. "The awesome Prussia cannot refuse so kickass an opportunity, so you can count me in!" he crowed, pointing at me in an abrupt switch of tone, grinning like the maniac he was. "Hell, I get to beat up everyone else and they can't even blame me!" Romano and I both sweatdropped as the Prussian began happily declaiming his tributes, a doom cloud hovering above our heads. _Just remember that we need him, we need him…_

The door tinkled as it opened and closed, and Romano stiffened. I couldn't tell what it was from here, but my heart sunk all the same, and a surreptitious look under my bangs showed that the newcomer had black hair cut in a disturbingly familiar fashion. We both elbowed Prussia and I jerked my head towards the door as he looked at me in surprise. His eyes moved over my head, tracking something in the bar window behind me, and his face went pale. I heard him mutter "_Scheiße_." under his breath as he set his drink on the bar counter, and we all slunk off our stools. I edged around the small crowd, heading for the exit, and saw Romano doing the same. Prussia however, cut right through, and I pulled my hood up, thanking my impulse earlier that had made me include such a shapeless and potentially identity-hiding article of clothing in my outfit today. Suddenly there was a crash like broken pottery, and the crowd gasped and began to swirl away. Romano, across the room, looked at me in horror, then at the disturbance, and my own eyes went wide. Prussia was laughing his annoying "Kesese", slowly circling 2p Japan, who had blood trickling down the right side of his face, probably from the broken _sake_ cup the other nation held. In the second player nation's hand was his katana, and it was stained bright red, red as the slowly spreading stain on Prussia's stomach.

_**9.13 AM, USA Central Time **_


	10. In Which Plans are Made

_**Sorry about my long absence, but I had finals the last two days, and…finals. *sigh* At least its Thanksgiving Break now, so I can write as much as I want. And to make up for my lack of updates, I'll probably do more than one chapter. And I'm glad that TheKatanaMistress is reviewing, but it'd be nice if I had someone else to talk to, you know. Pretty please. I need more than one person's input here!**_

_**November 26, 2014**_

_Arya's POV:_

It was stupid and I knew it was stupid, even as I lunged forward and elbowed my way through the crowd, even as I picked up my own abandoned _sake_ cup and smashed it to get a sharp edge, I knew that this was a bad, bad idea. Prussia held the bleeding wound on his stomach with his left hand, gripping a shard of broken pottery with his other, still "Kesese"ing steadily. It was a pitiful weapon against the razor-sharp katana in the second player's hand, and the only reason Prussia wasn't gutted like a fish was the cut on 2p Japan's temple, steadily impeding his vision as it poured blood into his eyes. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear his eyesight, and I took my chance and pounced on him, wrapping my arm around his throat in a stranglehold as he hissed in surprise and his elbow slammed into my sternum, making me drop the shard as pain flared through my system.

I wheezed but hung on, my side aching as all the breath in my lungs left me, and I grabbed his sword arm as he struggled against my hold on his neck, keeping the blade away from me as I gasped for air. Prussia dropped his shard of pottery and picked up a serving tray; the 2p struggled wildly as he realized what it was for, and I hung on desperately as his hard elbow crunched into my side and ribs again and again. I could almost feel each of the blue-black bruises I KNEW I'd get later on develop as he did. That wasn't all he was doing either; he jerked his sword arm frantically, trying to free it, while I held on with equal desperation. I repeatedly thanked Germany's unholy workout training again and again as I hung on; I would NEVER have been able to go through this without it.

Just as I felt my grip on his wrist beginning to slip, Prussia slammed the tray down on his head and he was out like a light. I groaned in relief and let go as he slumped to the floor, my right side feeling like one big bruise. Prussia grinned at me wearily, but before either of us could say anything the front wall crashed inward and Romano spun the car around, honking the horn. "Come on losers, move it or lose it!" he snapped, and we both managed to sprint towards the car, idling in the wreckage of the front wall, jerk open the car doors, and lunge in before Romano slammed his foot down and we were gone. He drove like a true Italian madman, zooming past the cop cars on their way, speeding down the rustic "highway", and finally turning on to the true highway that connected the small villages to the big cities and vice versa.

I whimpered in pain and slumped sideways as we got underway and it was safe to…well not relax, but ease up. My right side felt sore and tender, and anything involving contact hurt like the very devil. Movement hurt even more. "Ow…" I moaned as I attempted to curl up, then winced and lay flat again. "Fucking son of a bitch, that hurts…" I whimpered. I cursed the name of 2p Japan, and all other alternate nations. I had bruises where no bruises should be, and bruises on top of them. (Apparently the 2ps hit HARD.) Prussia's platinum blonde head popped up over the edge of the front seat at my growling (He had mysteriously commandeered shotgun; I wasn't about to argue, what with me being beaten to a pulp and all) and he stared at me. "Vat's wrong with you?" I gave him the snake eyes from my fetal position. "That damn bastard beat my side to a fucking pulp when I stepped in to save your ass." I hissed, feeling in too much pain to be politic.

He laughed. "Kesese! I'm the awesome Prussia, I didn't need your help!" He climbed over the seat and perched on the floor, proudly drawing his shirt up to show me the sluggishly bleeding wound on his stomach. "See! This little scratch can't faze the awesome _me_!" I stared at the cut. I _knew _that 2p Japan had nearly sliced his guts out, and yet the cut was shallow, and the bleeding was slowing down every second. _Arya, remember, he's a former country. He's more durable than a normal human, or so says certain parts of the fandom. _My tired brain reminded me, memories stirring in the fog that the pain caused. And apparently those particular headcannons were true; Prussia's wound was closing up right before my eyes, albeit very, very slowly. "Romano?" I asked wearily. The Italian's curl bobbed slightly as he shrugged. "For real countries like me and my brother, wounds like that close up instantly. This _bastardo_ just does it slower because-"

"I AM ZE AWESOME PRUSSIA!" Prussia crowed, dropping his bloody shirt and leaning over the seat to grin at Romano. The other nation snorted, but thankfully remained silent. Prussia looked back over to me and crouched, smirking slightly. "So _fraulien, _I never did get your name during all zat mess." he said expectantly, and I painfully sat up and offered my hand. "Aryana, Aryana Thompson. Arya for short." I said calmly as he grinned and extended his own, shaking mine firmly. "I am ze awesome Prussia." he said with equal solemnity, and I fell back with a sigh of painful relief as he leaned against the car door. "So now what? They know Prussia's either aware of the fact something's wrong, or the fact that Japan, who is supposedly sick, is alive, well, and murderous." I asked the air above me, and Romano cursed and hit the driving wheel. "Damnit, _bastardo_! Why couldn't you have stayed in Europe, where you belonged!" he snapped at Prussia, and I turned my head as the Germanic nation calmly settled in the corner between the seat and the door and leaned against the latter. "Actually, he raises a good point. What _were_ you doing in Japan?" I asked him, and he cackled. "Kesese~! Pranking Japan, of course! Zat loser needs to lighten up, especially when he's sick!"

_So he was here on accident. _I thought as both me and Romano sweatdropped. Prussia suddenly got a determined glint in his eyes, reminding me that he was, no matter how egotistical and jerk-ish that he acted, a once-powerful empire, and sat up straighter. "So, what's the plan of action? We're going to tuck our tails and run!?" Romano said "Hell yes!" at the same time I said "Hell no!" and Prussia glared at the Italian. "_Feigling_." he muttered, and Romano snapped around and jabbed a finger at him. "I just want to live, _bastardo_!" The car jerked dangerously as I yelped and nearly slid off the seat, and Romano rapidly turned around again and grabbed the wheel, barely getting control of the car once more. I scooted backwards until my shoulders were resting against the seat back again. "I, um, have a theory." I said hesitantly, and Prussia looked at me as Romano glanced in the mirror. "Yeah?" I bit my lower lip. "Well, hypothetically, since they seem to need mirrors to cross over and possess their original selves, can't we wait until they he does the thing where he leaves Japan, then drag Japan away from the mirror and break it to make sure he can't get him again?"

Prussia stared at me for a few seconds, then grinned slowly, a wicked glint coming into his crimson eyes. "I think it'll be worth a try." Romano said after a moment, tapping his finger against the wheel. "But I'm not going anywhere near the mirror or Japan until we know it's safe. You two can do the breaking and the grabbing." he added defensively, looking over his shoulder at the both of us. Before Prussia could say anything, I sat up with a wince. "I should be the one to break the mirror, if anything. They already know Prussia's on to them, if I keep out of sight they won't know if he just has an accomplice or someone who actually knows what's going on. Prussia can grab Japan, since he's stronger than me." I volunteered, clutching my side, and Prussia nodded with a maniac grin. "I like zis plan! The awesome Prussia will save the loser nations, and be hailed as awesome foreverm-" I kicked him in the knee, which was about as much retaliation I could go for right now. "And we will be _careful _and _quiet_ about it from start to finish." I added, glaring at him as he glared back.

_***Time Skip***_

I winced again as Romano tightened a bandage. "Stop flinching!" he snapped as he passed the roll around my middle again and jerked as I bit back a yelp. "Well it bloody _hurts_!" I shot back as Prussia snickered behind me, amused. When we had got back to our motel, I had discreetly pulled my shirt up to check the damage, and sure enough, my entire right side was black and blue. Romano had squinted at me, then whispered something to Prussia as the other grinned, and before I knew it, my arms were caught and drawn up by his own, and Romano was advancing upon me with a medical kit. "HEY! LEGGO!" I shrieked as I began to belatedly struggle, but Prussia lifted me up and my legs were suddenly kicking at thin air as my entire weight hung from my arms, and I whimpered as it pulled at the muscles connecting my shoulder to my side and stopped. Prussia set me back down, and Romano pulled out a bottle of something that smelled like antiseptic and cardboard, frowning at the label and then uncapping it. "I hate you both." I muttered sullenly as he began smearing the gel on my side, flinching as he pressed too hard on some places that were more tender than the others.

"C'mon _fraulien_, we need you in fighting condition, not whining und wailing like a little baby!" Prussia exhorted, and I looked over my shoulder. "My arms are held behind my back by some guy I don't know, my shirt is nearly pulled over my breasts, my torso is exposed, and another guy I barely know is smearing stuff all over my side. Do you expect me to be comfortable?" I asked him dryly, and he deadpanned. "When you say it like zat, anything would sound bad." We both chuckled, but I yelped as Romano took out a roll of bandages and ruthlessly wrapped it around my side, tears coming to my eyes. "OW! YOU FUCKING LITTLE ITALIAN PIECE OF SH-" He wrapped another length around me and I broke off in a screech of agony. This continued until my torso was nearly completely wrapped in (painfully tight) bandages…I looked like a mummy. Prussia let go of my arms and I lowered them, wincing at the flare of pain from my side. "I swear, I'll get you both for this." I muttered under my breath, and Prussia grinned as Romano made a shooing motion with his hand. "Yeah, whatever _krautlet._ Don't you two have planning to do?"

_**12.03, USA Central Time**_


	11. In Which Prussia Wears a Ninja Costume

_**Happy Thanksgiving everyone! (And as for the way Japan speaks, I am occasionally replacing the Ls with Rs, as that is how he speaks. I'm limiting it, since he needs to be understandable. I am not misspelling things on accident.)**_

_**November 27, 2014**_

_Arya's POV:_

I stared at myself in the mirror, feeling extremely out of place. Prussia had gone out and bought two ninja costumes for us, the better to "blend" in, and I felt fairly ridiculous. I was dressed all in black, with these weird shoes that were really soft on the outside, yet had a really thick sole. My pants were also strangely soft, but rather tight. My shirt was long-sleeved and had a hood attached to it. The hood was my real problem. It went over your head and had a smaller strip of cloth that went around your nose and mouth and was clipped into the other side of the hood, both to keep it on and hide your face. I felt I looked like either a complete badass or an utter fool, leaning towards the fool. "Uh, Romano?" I asked, slinking out from the bathroom. He looked up from his packing and stared at me. "Wow, look who's a hoodie ninja!" he snapped, irritated by my distraction, and continued shoving clothes inside his suitcase. "What do you want _krautlet_?"

"Do I look okay?" I asked as I cocked my body sideways, checking myself out and lifting a corner of my shirt. "I feel weird." He paused, then deliberately put his current article of clothing down and leaned back, leaning his face on his hand and glaring at me. "Let's put it this way _krautlet,_ you don't look like yourself and that's all that matters. This isn't a fashion show, this is either a B and E or a potential murder, so don't get so worked up over appearances." he barked, then went back to packing. I let go of the shirt, feeling partially relieved. "Kesese! Hooded Death stalks ze night!" Prussia chipped in as he jumped down from the ceiling, clad in an identical costume to my own. I rolled my eyes and sighed, then blinked as he held out a pair of dark sunglasses and pointed to his face. "We've got to keep our eyes hidden too, since I'm like ze only albino around!" he snickered, and I nodded and carefully put them on. Properly kitted out, I tugged the black gloves on my hands and prepared to break the law.

_***Time Skip***_

I don't know if it was the fact we were wearing ninja costumes that worked like magic, or the fact that being in Hetalia, an anime, granted temporary equivalence with whatever costume you were wearing, but I was a hell of a lot stealthier than I had ever been before as I crept towards the house, circling around a patch of herb garden. Prussia was right behind me and slightly to the left. I was so interested in this phenomenon that I asked him, in the shelter of a bush, how he had gotten so sneaky. He merely smirked at me and said that stealth was imperative to pull all the best pranks. Which did make sense, but didn't explain why _I _was being so sneaky. I paused as I flattened myself against the wall, realizing something, and blinked as Prussia nudged me with an elbow, looking impatient. I leaned in closer to him and whispered "How are we going to get the second player to let go of Japan?" He sighed gustily and bent down. "Romano's going to use his boss's phone to call him." he hissed in my ear, and I nodded rapidly and continued edging along until I came until the door. Prussia took over at this point and leaned down, crouching at the door and sliding it just barely ajar. He pulled his glasses down and peered through the crack, then pulled the door just wide enough that we could pass through and pushed them back up.

He tiptoed into the room first, with me close behind, and I looked around as he crept towards the next doorway and scouted out the hallway. We seemed to be in Japan's kitchen, and his dining room looked to be right across from us, with a hallway running from out left to right probably leading to his front door and back yard. I studied all the cooking implements, wondering if I could use one as a weapon if things went sour, but Prussia waved me forward before I could decide. He cupped his hand to my ear, whispering the situation to me. "Ze Japan look-alike is in ze dining room. Zere's a huge mirror covering one of ze walls. How're you gonna smash _zat_?" he hissed, sounding worried. I froze. That was _bad _news for our plan. "Uh…"_ Get it together Arya, Japan's counting on you two! Think woman, think!_ "Is there a table or something like that? Maybe I can use it to smash the mirror." I asked in a low whisper, and he looked. "_Ja, _but you might not be able to lift it." he pointed out, and I swallowed nervously. "I'll just have to."

Prussia nodded and took out a phone, shielding the glow with his hands as he tapped something out, then quickly turned it off. After a few moments, I heard a faint buzz from the dining room, and a masculine grumble. I looked over Prussia's shoulder, both of us crouched in the doorway, and saw the familiar black fog wafting towards the window. Prussia held his fingers up; three, two, one. He streaked into the room and grabbed a very surprise Japan, darting out to the hallway as I gripped the small trestle table with both hands, looking at the wall-to-wall mirror. I could see the room, reflected in it, darken. The wood and cloth became splintered and slightly ragged, and I saw a misty black figure form. 2p Japan stared at me from the other world's doorway to the kitchen, his blood-red eyes full of rage. He started walking forward, looking murderous, and without a thought I heaved and threw the table. He stopped walking as it hit the glass and snapped a long, jagged fracture across it, and I saw the world reflected therein, the _wrong _one, bulge and twist, distorting. He looked faintly surprised, but started walking again, urgency coming into his steps. I looked around frantically for something, anything, to throw next, and finally heaved the table up again and threw it at the mirror once more, my bandaged side screaming in pain.

Another fracture, and the world in the mirror juddered and roiled like it was losing all sense of focus. I couldn't understand how he kept walking, but now he was sprinting, and he was almost at the mirror's edge. I lifted the table over my head and _smashed_ it against the mirror, and just as he was about to "cross over", it shattered. For a moment he, and everything else, was reflected perfectly, just broken up like a mosaic, and then the shards of mirror were raining down around me and there was nothing but Japan's, the real Japan's, room reflected in them, as well as myself. I felt around my face for splinters of glass, but felt nothing as I turned towards the door. "Dude?" I asked, not trusting to say Prussia's name just yet. He strutted in, his ninja hood discarded, and the real Japan was walking behind him, looking miffed. "I told you, there was no need to grab me." he told my companion irritably, and then blinked at me. "Who are you, and why are you dressed rike a ninja? Did you break that mirror over there…hey wait a minute, when did I get a mirror?" He looked at the few remaining shards in bewilderment, clearly lost. I looked at Prussia and pointed to our companion. "You tell him. I'm going to go looking for things 2p Japan might have left behind."

_***Time Skip***_

To my surprise and deep suspicion, besides the mirror, I found absolutely nothing that Japan wouldn't have. In fact, a great deal of his stuff was missing, including his futon sleeping mat. _So the second player didn't sleep here?_ I thought as I checked the food and water bowls for his pets, both of which were full. As I reentered the dining room, I saw Prussia, still hoodless and now without his dark glasses, sitting across from Japan, who was drinking a cup of tea. "I find this all very suspicious. Are you sure he is not praying a prank on me?" he said calmly, looking at me as I sat down and removed my hood. I shook my head, folding the glasses and clipping them onto my shirt collar. "Sorry Mr. Japan, but this is all true…or if Prussia told you the right story, it is." I gave the former nation a suspicious glare, and he grinned. Japan took another sip of tea. "He did spout some nonsense about me being possessed." he conceded, and I rubbed the back of my neck. "Actually, that is the right story. It's what the amnesia disease is, the evil alternate nations taking you guys over and using your bodies, or something like that. Did something happen to you, before you started feeling weird?"

He tipped the tea cup back and finished it. "Well, now that you mention it, I was chased by some bums the other day. They trapped me in some kind of warehouse and I saw a man in a dark cloak throw some kind of dirt at me. I thought I managed to dodge it, but apparentry not. After he threw it at me, he left, and the others ran away." Prussia's eyes gleamed in interest as I raised my eyebrows. "Do you know what he looked like?!" To my disappointment, Japan shook his head. "_Ie,_ I'm sorry. He was wearing a hood, and the cloak covered nearry everything else." I cursed and snapped my fingers as Prussia looked sour. Japan looked from one of us to the other. "So, what is plan now?" he asked expectantly, and I looked at Prussia nervously. "Um, I don't think we should tell you Mr. Japan, in case you get taken over again. You should try to stay away from mirrors, in fact, stay away from anything reflective if you can. Can you do that?" He nodded in determination, making a fist. "_Hai, _I will stay strong." We both stood to leave, and Japan belatedly came to his feet and bowed to us both. "I will ask some people to take away the mirror pieces tomorrow. Safe journeys." Prussia gave him a thumbs up with his usual "Kesese", and I bowed. "You too, good luck."

As we walked down the driveway, Prussia suddenly stopped dead and swore. "_Scheiße_! I forgot to make him say election!"

I smacked him.

_**11.30 AM, USA Central Time**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thanksgiving<strong>_


	12. In Which China is Addicted to Opium, Aru

_**Totally making all this up by the way, I have no idea if this is how Chinese people dress when they're in the criminal underworld and need to look attractive while selling drugs. I don't think anyone will correct me at this point, anyways.**_

_**November 28, 2014**_

_Arya's POV:_

I seriously felt like we were a group of covert ops or somethine at this point, staring at my map of a high-end Chinese financial district and trying to make sense of the place names, never mind the _places_. Romano, on my right, was our tech and financial support, as well as the loud and often unneeded voice of caution. Prussia, _somewhere_ on my left, no doubt heckling the vendors on the street, was our expert on breaking and entering, thievery, sneaking around, and generally anything else involving illicit and covert operations. I was the info person, the one who knew what we were up against, but otherwise of little practical use. Alone, we probably would've been caught within the first few moments of entering the country, but together, we had made it to the district that China, supposedly, lived in. He had reported feeling "weird" a few month ago, and hadn't checked in since, except to say that he was "back" and he felt better, but still not sure he had recovered completely.

Romano was grumpy (which meant he was fine) as we arrived in the country, and Prussia was ecstatic at the chance to cause mischief (as well as be the savior of all the other countries), but I spent most of the plane, car, and bus ride trying to dredge up all I knew about 2p China. It wasn't much, other than the fact he wore a black (black?) cap, looked just like and wore China's clothes, had red eyes, and smoked opium. I had no idea about his habits, temperament, or general attitude, but I did know he wasn't one of the potentially (depending on which headcannon you followed) "good" second players like Prussia, Romano, or Belarus, so we would have to approach this with the same "no mercy" ethics that we had done with Japan. _Damnit, if only all the others were as well developed as Canada and America and England's and all the Axis 2ps, I wouldn't be having this problem! We're practically going in blind…_ I thought nervously as I worried my lower lip, and Prussia waved me over to the low, small table in our hotel room where he and Romano had been scheming.

He put one of his fingers on a street, then traced it up, saying "Alright losers, here's what we do. China lives in zis house here, und I asked around –don't worry _fraulien, _I was careful _und_ in disguise." I closed my mouth with a glower. _For only having known me a few days, he knows me too well._ "Anyway, I checked around und ze second player took up residence there too, and presumably still is mooching off his original's good company." We both glared at him as he grinned at his own joke. "Hehe, anyway. Ze 2p _is _addicted to opium like you said, a lot of it goes to his house on the sly. Und zat gives us a way in. It's simple really, all we have to is send in one of his pimp girls with some opium and smash all the mirrors when he's distracted." They both looked at me expectantly, and I blinked back. "What?" I asked suspiciously. Prussia tapped the diagram of the house with an evil grin. "Well, neither of us can pull off that kind of look."

The penny dropped, I became seriously alarmed. "You can't fucking be serious." I said, slowly backing away from the table. Prussia advanced, lifting up a bag he had gotten from the market downtown. "Kesese, oh we are indeed. In the dress _fraulien_!" I pulled out the pocket knife I had taken to carrying in my pocket out and pointed it at him. "Stay away from me! I am not some kind of hooker!" I squeaked defensively, and he got the meanest gleam in his eye, chuckling slowly. "You're going in the dress whether you like it or not _fraulien_, and if you refuse to do it yourself, ze awesome Prussia will just have to put it on for you!" I desperately looked to my side. "Romano?! A little help here!" He waved his hands in front of him. "Oh no, you're the only girl here and I'm the one he's going to use as backup if you don't use the dress! Put it on _krautlet_!"

I looked from one to the other and slowly realized that I hated logic. I gingerly took the bag and pointed to both him and Prussia, gripping the accursed thing by the least amount I could. "You, and you, just go into the bathroom or-or something. I'll change." Prussia gave a whoop of triumph as he promptly ran to the bathroom and locked himself in, and Romano hastily turned around and clapped a hand over his eyes, his back to me. I pulled out the dress first, which was more of a long shirt than a dress, especially since it barely came past my hips. It was a kind of wine-red that looked very regal, designed with a pattern of gold dragons all along the hems. I felt fairly ridiculous to even consider wearing it, but there you go. _If anyone ever accuses me of not staying true to a job, I swear to God I'll hit them…_ I stripped off my shirt and jeans and pulled the cursed heavy thing over my head, then bent over towards the bag again and took out some black tights, which would at least cover my legs. I yanked them up, then put on the very delicate-looking but actually very hard little leather shoes, which were dyed nearabout the same color as the dress and had the same pattern, just on a smaller scale. Lastly, there was some kind of weird cap that looked not unlike the one 2p China actually wore.

Once the bag was empty, I coughed into my fist. "It's okay now dude." I muttered, my cheeks flaming red. Romano swiveled around in the chair, and his eyebrows rose. "Wow. You look…absolutely ridiculous." he said frankly, and I felt a tick mark grow. "Hey! I thought the idea was for me to look nice and blend in!" He deadpanned. "You're blonde…there is no such thing as a blonde Asian, _stupido_…" Another tick mark grew beside the first. "Then what the hell am I doing in this stupid dress?!" For those who would wonder about it, I had no problem with feminine clothing, there was just a time and a place for such things. Going alone into an unknown enemy's territory was not one of them, especially in such a short dress. Meanwhile, evil energy flares were darting back and forth between our eyes, and we may have come to blows if Prussia, for once, had not made himself useful.

"Kesese, of course you don't fit in with your _current _look! But fear not, ze awesome Prussia can make you fit in anywhere." he cackled happily as he put me in a headlock and dragged me to one of the armchairs, and I paled at the large amount of cosmetics laid out on the side table. "If I wasn't more worried about what the hell you're going to put on me, I'd be seriously concerned on how you have those and know how to use them." I said as he shoved me into the chair, and he brandished a small disk of something (the kind that had powder in them) and a tiny paintbrush, grinning wickedly. "Kesese, I'm an albino prankster! Of course I need disguises, even though ze awesomeness of ze awesome me outshines any mere paint!" he cackled, and I was seriously reminded of the "crotch cloth" scene as he ordered Romano to hold my hair and make me tilt my face up, "Kesese"ing to himself as he began layering makeup on me.

_***Time Skip***_

"Zhere! All done." Prussia capped the tube of lipstick, and I cautiously took the small hand mirror we carried around for checking our reflection. None of us trusted mirrors anymore, especially not big ones, but the small ones were safe –enough– for us to use without hiding our faces. Although we couldn't exactly do that either –I didn't think _any_ of the 2ps would be stupid enough not to put two and two together if they saw us deliberately avoiding looking in the full-length mirrors we were supposed to be unwary of, or hiding our faces from them. I held it up to my face, and blinked. The one that looked out was totally unfamiliar, and yet I couldn't have said that I could find any use of makeup on my features. I certainly looked more Asian, if not a complete pureblooded native to the area. Prussia handed me a small cloth bag with something that felt like a plastic medicine bottle inside it, his face uncharacteristically solemn. I hefted it slightly, confused. "What's this?"

"Opium."

I hissed and dropped it like it was on fire. "That's a _drug_!" I shrieked, and he picked it up carefully, dusted the bag off, and handed it to me again. "We know that _fraulien_, but you're the one that said this double likes it." Romano came up silently behind him and folded his arms. "Look, we've been watching his house while you booked us a hotel, and when you bought dinner, and all you have to do is walk up to his front door and offer him the bag. Don't say anything, don't even look him in the eyes; he'll just grab it and beckon you inside. You'll go in, and come out about five, ten, thirty minutes later. It's easy." I pursed my lips. "What happens in those "five, ten, thirty" minutes?" I asked, and they both looked at each other. Romano shrugged and said "No idea" at the same time Prussia stated "I think he just pays you". My eye twitched slightly. "So you _are _sending me in blind." Romano rubbed the back of his neck and looked guilty as Prussia smirked guilelessly. "Don't worry _fraulien, _it'll all go like clockwork."

_***Time Skip***_

_ It'll all go like clockwork, it'll all go like clockwork…_ I repeated silently to myself as I stepped up China's doorsteps and knocked on the peeling paint of his door, trembling in every limb. I took a deep breath as I heard footsteps near the doorway, trying to calm myself. _It'll ruin everything if you're tense. Forget the fact you're after a murderous 2p; you are a nameless, bland, boring Chinese hooker lady with opium, hoping to get paid big bucks by a satisfied client. Focus, you are nothing more, and nothing less than that. _With this mental chant, I was able to focus on the scuffed and much abused boots of the newcomer as the door banged open, and slowly offer my bundle of drugs. There was an equal pause, and then he almost delicately snatched it from my hand and made a languid motion, inviting me inside. I felt myself tremble one last time before my new persona settled in and I was able to follow him into the metaphorical lion's den.

His presence of…of _evilness_ was fainter than the other second player's, but if that was due to him being less evil or the fact he was purposefully tuning it down, I didn't know. At any rate, someone else would've found this to be quite a nice house; everything was in the bright colors China seemed to love, although there was a faint layer of dust over a lot of his decorations, as if what had taken China's place in this world didn't much care for cleaning. It was all also faintly ostentatious, which China, to be fair, had also seemed to like. The second player had lead me to a room which also had a huge, floor-to-wall, wall-to-wall mirror, and a couch incongruously pushed up against it. He picked up a pipe from his stand, unplugged the bottle without even taking it from the small silk bag, and poured a few tablespoons of a thick, tar-like substance into the bowl of the pipe, flicked a lighter he had in his pocket, and then lit the pipe. He took in a long draw, and even from my restricted view of pretty much everything from the knees down, I could tell all the tension went out of his body. In fact, he swayed slightly, like he was so relaxed he might fall over.

He sat down with a thump on the couch, letting out a long sigh of satisfaction. "This is some good stuff." he murmured dreamily. I jumped slightly at his voice; it was the first time I had heard a 2p speak, aside from Luciano and what I guessed to be 2p Spain. His voice was deeper than China's, much deeper, but it held the same accent, and if you had heard either of them speak before, you'd know they were similar, if not almost certainly related. Unsure of what to do, I settled for an almost imperceptible nod. He waved the pipe at me slightly. "You, you don't know what it feels like. None of you do." I fought the impulse to stare at him like an idiot. _Is he talking about being on opium, or what?_ He took another blissful inhale from the pipe. "You, you, you haven't smoked this, ever. I can tell." I _felt_ his eyes run over me, and resisted the urge to shudder and cover my breasts. "It leaves its mark on people like you. Healthy people. Young people."

_Please destroy the mirrors soon._ I thought desperately, and almost as if the thought had summoned it, a faint crash sounded from far away inside the hour. 2p China's head lolled to the side slightly. "Hear that?" he murmured, sounding only mildly curious instead of angry or alarmed. _Then again, he is high or stoned or doped up or whatever you are when you're on opium. _I dared to lift my eyes slightly and shook my head, allowing confusion to seep over my features. He stared at me for a moment, and I dropped my eyes again. Apparently they couldn't hide all of their corruption, even when they were trying, small hints were there; it shone through most especially in their eyes. If you made eye contact, stared at those dull maroon orbs for too long, you could almost _feel_ the source of their taint brushing against your skin. He grunted and I heard him slap the couch beside him. "Sit down."

My skin crawled at the thought of going anywhere near him, but I dared not refuse. Neither did I dare to appear reluctant, so it was with a little skip and a hop I came to rest on the couch next to him, holding my hands in my lap in what I hoped was a demure, not a terrified, fashion. He slung his arm over my shoulder and leaned against me, taking another long draw of his opium and breathing it out. I held my breath best I could; I couldn't afford to be high right now. "You're a shy one. Usually your kind are a bit more forward about what they want." His arm gave a little squeeze around me as he spoke. _Please hurry up, please hurry up, please hurry up…_ I begged Romano and Prussia, and nearly squeaked as 2p China pinched my cheek. "It's a bit cute, to be honest."

I swallowed, but my dry throat caught and I had to cough slightly, which I hoped could be passed as a reaction to the lingering opium fumes. He chuckled, buying it, and took another draft. "Mmm, you don't know what you're missing." he purred teasingly, and I couldn't hide the flinch as he pulled me into his lap. I just prayed that in his drugged state he wouldn't notice my now extremely apparent unease, as well as my shivers. I suddenly had the nasty thought, which we had discussed before, of what we would do if 2p China would not somehow leave the real China's body. I felt my phone buzz in my pocket just as he was taking another draft; I cursed and carefully levered the screen up so I could check it.

_We're done smashing mirrors, all that's left is the one in the big room where you two are. What the hell are you doing in there?!_

–_Romano_

_Ooh, getting friendly with China's double, Arya? ;3_

–_The Awesome Prussia_

I checked the state of 2p China (still moderately engrossed in his pipe) and quickly typed out a response to both parties.

_We're in what I think is China's living room, he's got a mirror like Japan did and a couch in front of it. He's on the couch smoking and I'm in his freaking lap! I don't know what to do! Help!_

I sent it and quickly tucked my phone back in my pocket as 2p China sat up slightly from his slump. "Hey, you're shy." he mumbled as he lightly batted a stray lock of my black-dyed hair. I froze and mentally berated myself, before nodding tremulously. _Prussia you asshole, I will never forgive you if you don't come up with one of your "brilliant" ideas right now and get me out of this. _I thought viciously to the still-absent country –and what the _hell_ were he and Romano doing?! – as I focused on my tightly clenched hands in my lap. The second player mumbled something else in Chinese –I obviously didn't understand a word of it– and leaned forward. I stiffened as his face came close to mine, and he grinned slightly in that doped-up way he had right now. "But you're cute." He leaned forward a little more as he gripped me by the hair on the back of my head, and his intentions were obvious as my face turned a flaming red. Hell, I'd never kissed _anyone _before, and now-

**SMASH!**

I was never so glad to see anyone as I was to see Romano as he smashed the plate-sized mirror –and where had he gotten _that_?!– over 2p China's head. He slumped even more, and I saw the mirror ripple as something like black smoke tore away in Romano's hands, dissipating even as the shards tinkled all around us. As one, we turned towards the larger mirror, and 2p China, his eyes no longer dull with opium, was turning to us, murder in his eyes. I noticed that, luckily for our identity hiding, Romano was wearing some kind of festival-dragon-monster uniform, complete with a mask, and as I saw 2p China lunge for the mirror's surface, Prussia came hurtling through the door and hit the mirror with all his considerable strength. It shattered like a thin sheet of glass, and I saw the world re-align itself in those fragments as they also pattered to the ground. Prussia was also wearing a dragon costume, and even as I stood to congratulate (and thank) them, I heard a wonderfully familiar and unfortunately irritated voice from behind me.

"What the hell, aru! My mouth tastes like poppy and there's glass all over my floor! WHAT HAVE YOU WESTERNERS DONE TO MY HOUSE, ARU?!"

As one Prussia, Romano, and I pointed to each other vindictively. "_You_ explain."

_**8.31 PM, USA Central Time**_


	13. In Which Things Get Unlucky

_**November 29, 2014**_

_Arya's POV:_

It was taking a long, long time to explain things to China. He point-blank refused the possibility of "evil versions of us, aru" and more than likely thought this was all some kind of prank that Prussia had thought up. Romano banged his fist on the table. "Listen _idiota_, we _are_ telling the truth!" China folded his arms like a petulant child. "I do not believe such a ridiculous story, aru! How do I know this isn't one of Prussia's stupid tricks?!" he shot back, and Romano began muttering under his breath in Italian, smacking his hand over his eyes. I pulled off my cap and sat down beside them. "Well Mr. China, there is the fact that Romano and I are here, and I know you don't know me, but how likely is it for Romano to take part in one of Prussia's pranks?" I asked him with my head tilted to the side, and he blinked and held his long-sleeved hand to his mouth. "I hadn't thought of it like that…wait, so are you saying I _was_ possessed, aru?!"

Romano and I looked at each other. "Pretty much." I said with a shrug, and there was a crash from somewhere inside the house. "AND QUIT MESSING UP MY STUFF, ARU!" China yelled over his shoulder at Prussia, who was "investigating" the premises for anything the 2p had left behind. I pulled out my "case notebook" and a pen from the bag Romano had given me with my usual pocket items inside, since the dress had only one smallish one on the right hip. "So Mr. China, a few days before you began feeling weird, were you chased by anyone? Any_thing_? Did someone throw something at you? Like dirt?" He blinked and frowned, looking up as if in remembrance. "Well there was that one time I came to answer the door and some weird person in a dragon mask threw a powder at me, but I thought it was because of the festival…what are you doing, aru?" I had begun frantically writing as soon as he said "threw a powder at me", and Romano had swallowed hard.

"So, do you have any _memories_ of after you called and said you were feeling pretty fine, but still weird? After you "disappeared"?" I asked, and he blinked. "Well…not really. It's all kinda vague, aru, but I do remember feeling very…attracted…towards opium. Does that help?" I made what I hoped was a reassuring smile and nodded. _Not at all._ "Well, thank you for your help, we'll just be going now." I said as I capped my pen and put both it and the notebook in my bag, and we both stood as China looked up at us. I gave him a salute. "Please try as best you can to stay away from mirrors, and if someone throws powder at you again, text this number." I gave him Prussia's number, and we stopped to collect the former nation (currently doing acrobatics in the hallway with his dragon mask on) and dragged him out. As we settled into our hotel room and I undressed from the ridiculous Chinese costume, I took my journal out and began to log in that particular day.

_Day 35, "Hetalia" Reckoning_

_(Song)Quote for the Day:_

"_They will possess you, unless you change the number on your dial." –Song _

_We'll be splitting up soon, since Prussia pointed out that the 2ps that we "sent back" or eradicated in our world would probably be in communication with the other, non-possessed 2ps, and tell them that someone else is onto them and is "fixing" the possessed countries. Prussia's going to be dealing with the Nordics (I was relieved, since I had no idea what they were like) and me and Romano'll handle the Europeans and everyone else, Russia, America, so on and so forth. _

_I told them we should leave England for last. Although this would give the 2p time to dig in and build up his defenses, as Prussia pointed out, I also think he'd be the only second player capable of forcing his way back even without a mirror; if we smash all of the mirrors near the nations __**and**__ get rid of all the other 2ps, he should be weakened enough so that he can't get back without help from our side, which of course won't be forthcoming. We argued this back and forth for hours, before Romano pitched in and said that even though Prussia knew more about strategy, I knew more about the second players, and it was decided to leave him for last._

_Romano's awesome when he's not being a jerk._

_So we're heading back to Italy tomorrow; we plan on freeing Spain and maybe some of the other Mediterranean nations; __**not**__ 2p Italy. Prussia says I'm being too paranoid, but I think I'm being justifiably cautious. The Axis and the ACE part of the FACE family are some of the most well-developed, and thus most likely the strongest 2ps there are. We're saving them for last._

_I'm also continuing as much of my training as possible, sit-ups, and whatever of the laps that I can get in. Prussia's been saying that I'm taking too much after his brother, but I don't want to be caught napping when the inevitable fight with one of the warier 2ps starts. Especially if it's one of the ones who knows how to use a blade. I just hope nobody gets hurt when we're weeding them out, or worse, captured and taken over. Then we'd __**all**__ be in trouble. _

_***Time Skip***_

I hugged Prussia goodbye. He was boarding the plane to Denmark, where he'd start freeing the Nordics. Despite being an asshole and incredibly egotistical, deep, deep, _deep_ down, he was actually a pretty decent guy, especially when it came to helping us out. I'd miss his input, as well as his outrageous humor. He grinned and squeezed me tightly (he temporarily used his country strength, the asshole), then let me go. "Don't worry, ze awesome Prussia will take care of all this before they even know what hit them!" he crowed, making a fist, and I gave him a weak thumbs up, my side throbbing. The bruises had faded, a little, but my side was still very tender. "Sure thing dude. Text us if you need help?" He airily waved his hand. "Of course, it's all good. Well, see ya!" He made a hand motion at Romano (I couldn't see as it was over my shoulder) and then practically ran into the plane, "Kesese"ing all the way. Romano muttered something in Italian and gripped my shoulder. "C'mon _krautlet_, we still need to catch our own plane." I nodded and picked up my bag. "Let's go."

_3__rd__ Person POV:_

Arya was slumped against the window of the plane, her blonde hair fallen about her face. Romano was asleep beside her, snoring slightly. The American teen was wearing a plain white T-shirt and a light black jacket, over it, with no hood and no tassels. It was unzipped, showing the white underneath. Her jeans had a Gothic flower printed on the one pocket, but were otherwise plain. Her sneakers had been triple knotted, twice, so that absolutely no string hung off the sides. He was dressed in a white button-down shirt and some light brown slacks, as well as boots. The whole cabin shook just barely, and the words "_We have now arrived in Naples, Italy_" woke them both, and a string of soft Italian followed the English instructions, most likely repeating them.

Arya rubbed one eye. "Eh, so we're here?" Romano nodded and promptly retrieved her bag, tossing it to her. "Here." She caught it with another yawn, and they both filed out of the plane with the other passengers as Arya swung her bag over her shoulder. She waited as he retrieved his own luggage case, still yawning. Genetics had imbued her with a good head for jet lag, but she wasn't immune. As he elbowed his way back towards her, she happened to glance behind him and froze. She quickly dropped her eyes and went to meet Romano, walking side by side as they headed for the bus terminal. "Your _fratello's_ following us." she said cheerfully without turning around, and one amber eye moved to her. "Is he…alright?"

"Not even remotely."

He swore under his breath in Italian, and she nodded empathetically. "What now?" He bit his lip. "Well, luckily we didn't take the round trip, so they can't trace us beyond Bari." Arya let out a relieved sigh; Bari was an Italian city on the coast, so as far as the 2ps knew, they had never left Italy. Bari was also the first place they had used their real names (Arya hadn't questioned how Romano managed to get her a passport), so they also couldn't be traced beyond that. She resisted the urge to look behind her. "So now what?" she asked, in reference to their tail. Romano frowned. "I have an idea. Follow me." He sped up, and she belatedly picked up her own pace, hurrying after him as he dragged his suitcase along. Although the crowded airport was extremely noisy, both thought they could hear footsteps picking up behind them. They rounded a corner, and Romano sprang his trap.

* * *

><p>Luciano frowned as he rounded the corner at a sprint, and he prey wasn't there. He gripped the knife in his pocket, swearing under his breath as he slowed to a walk. It was rare that he bothered to come out and hunt for things <em>himself <em>(that was what underlings were for), but when he did, things were damn well getting serious. _First that idiotic Prussia, and now…those two?_ It was imperative that _no one _knew about the plan. They could operate with the loss of one or two comrades, like Wang and Honda, but if they lost too many, the countries would start to wonder…He gripped the knife in his pocket tighter. _No_. No way was he going to lose this body to that pasta-loving little coward. It was _his_ now, and he'd fight tooth and nail and knife to keep it. He narrowed his eyes as he flicked and unflicked his knife in his pocket, thinking. _Those two don't know that the stupid little idiot is "sick". The girl will come back to Italy's house tonight, and if not tonight, soon. I'll kill her then, and take my idiot of a fratello afterwards. That idiota Prussia won't be able to deal with the rest of us on his own._

He grinned, a wicked shark's grin that made the other airport-goers edge away from him.

_I've found the little mice. Now all I have to do is rip their tails off._

_**12.21, USA Central TIme**_


	14. In Which Its a Dark and Stormy Night

_**Luciano has found them out, and is now going to take action. I dunno, what else am I supposed to say to you people at this point?**_

_**November 29, 2014**_

_Arya's POV:_

I was ordinarily a deep sleeper, but tonight, I felt…like that might be bad. The brewing thunderstorm outside didn't help the mood, especially since it looked to be a nasty one. The fact that Italy had practically stood over me when I was eating only deepened my unease. I had dressed for sleep in my old tanktop and fatigues, instead of the looser old-fashioned nightshirt and bottoms that I usually wore here at Italy's house. I also had put my pocketknife under my pillow._ You have no reason to suspect this, you know._ I thought as I shuffled and turned over, my eyes closed. _Relax, and stop being paranoid like Prussia says!_ With that conclusion, I turned over once more and peacefully closed my eyes. I don't know if it was five minutes or five hours later, but I was awoken by a crash of thunder from the now-raging storm outside. My eyes shot open, and I gaped at the forks of lightning streaking the night sky outside my window, and shuddered.

_What a nasty storm…_

Some instinct made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. It was the same creeping feeling you had when playing Slender for the first time, or after reading or watching an especially scary movie or book. You felt like something was behind you, like every shadow was a monster, and every creak of the house was something sneaking up behind you. The feeling becoming unbearable, I half-turned in bed, and shrieked. The knife came down just as I frantically leapt out of bed, scrabbling my own out from under my pillow and flicking it open as I backed away rapidly. Luciano smirked and withdrew his knife from my mattress, his magenta eyes glowing in the dark. "Quick reflexes _signora_." he chuckled, and lightning flashed, briefly outlining us both in silhouette. "But I don't think you can hide anywhere now." he added, pulling out another flick knife and unsheathing the blade, before flipping it in his hand and catching it by the hilt.

_Curse it, he's right. It's a howling storm out there, and he knows the house far better than I do. If I hide indoors, he'll find me. And if I hide outdoors…_ As if to negate that option, another barrage of thunder sounded, actually vibrating the ancient floorboards under our feet just a little. I backed away from him, feeling for my bag and slinging it over my shoulder as he gave another sinister smirk and followed. "Oh, are you running?" he asked as he moved closer to me, and I swallowed as my back hit the icy cold glass of the bay windows. "Look buddy, I don't want any trouble, but I sure as hell ain't going to be killed be a nutjob with a bunch of knives." I said as I fumbled for the catch behind me, and his magenta eyes darkened. "You brought this on yourself_ cagna_." he said darkly, and I turned the catch as the door beside me burst open, howling wind and rain pelting through the gap. He lifted his arm slightly, covering his face, and I quickly darted out into the lashing storm, which met me with a blast of icy cold water in the form of many large raindrops. I heard Luciano scream something Italian from behind me, and I stumbled away best I could in the driving wind.

It saved my life, because just as an especially hard gust made me stagger he threw a knife. If I _ever_ decide to use knives in my life, I want to be as unbelievably good as 2p Italy is. Even though it was dark as pitch, driving rain, and the wind was both blowing hard and shifting unpredictably, he managed to throw a flick knife with enough force and accuracy to have stabbed me through the heart. I knew that because the same knife, due to my stumble, penetrated my shoulder deeply enough to poke through the other side. I screamed and fell to my knees, clutching my left shoulder as I felt something warm and wet soaking my fingers at the same time freezing and wet was soaking the rest of me, as well as my hand. I heard bootsteps behind me, and then I shrieked again as 2p Luciano grabbed me by the hair and jerked my head back, exposing my throat as he brandished another knife. His magenta eyes were wild with rage, perhaps because he "missed" his first shot, perhaps because I had nearly gotten away.

My heart pounded frantically in my chest as lightning flashed and thunder roared around us, the wind blowing our hair this way and that wildly, the rain pelting our bodies. My left shoulder and right hand were covered with dark red blood, turning lighter and lighter as it ran down my arms and mixed with the rainwater. He was about to cut my throat, I could see it in his eyes, and I was utterly terrified. He put the knife to the right side of my throat, pressing it down hard enough to draw blood, and I could tell he was about to slash it across my throat. On my knees, I couldn't do much to stop him, and I had dropped my own knife sometime between his throwing the knife and grabbing my hair. I moved my hand, slick with blood, and tried to grab his wrist, but he was still a lot stronger than I was. I managed to get my feet under me as he struggled to bear his knife across my throat, and tried to kick him as I held the knife away, and we seemed to be at an impasse for the moment.

I managed to knee him in the crotch, and he hissed, his grip weakening for the one second I needed to push him away, rip my head out of his grasp, and run for the edge of the balcony. He snarled a curse and I felt him throw another knife, which lodged in my hip. I whimpered and hauled my other leg over the edge, jumping. I howled with pain as I crashed into one of the bushes beneath my balcony, but I managed to roll over and start to try and drag myself away. I was wet, muddy, soaked, and chilled to the bone by the time I could crawl out, and I dragged myself upright using the helpful brick of the house, starting to stumble away. I couldn't afford to do anything else, especially not since I heard Luciano crashing through the house, attempting to get to the ground floor and cut me off, as he knew better than to jump off the balcony like I did.

I fumbled my phone out of my pocket, trying not to pay attention to the blood covering my arm, and frantically dialed Romano's number. "_What do you want?!_" he snarled from the other end, sounding like I had just woken him up. "_Do you know what time it is over here!?_" I looked around as I stumbled around the edge of the house, clutching the phone in a deathgrip. "ROMANO! HE KNOWS! HE KNOWS ABOUT US AND THE OTHER 2PS! HE KNOWS AND HE JUST TRIED TO KILL ME!" I sobbed, trying to be heard over the howling wind, getting lightheaded from the loss of blood. "_Wait what?! What are you talking about Arya, slow down! Where __**are**__ you?!_" he spluttered, and I started to stagger towards the cars. "LUCIANO, THE 2P, ITALY'S 2P, HE KNOWS, HE KNOWS! HE JUST TRIED TO STAB ME, TWICE!" I cried, and I faintly heard several slamming sounds, but I didn't know if they came from the other end of the phone or the house behind me. "_Alright_ _**krautlet**__, cool off, calm down, I'm coming over right now. Tell me where you are and where you plan to go._" I nearly fell as I reached the cars, but I supported myself with one hand on the window to Italy's, whose keys I luckily had a duplicate of. "T-the cars in front of Italy's house. I-I'm going to take Italy's to Germany's house, 2p Italy will expect me to head to yours."

"_Right, I'll meet you on the road._"

_3__rd__ Person POV:_

Romano swore as he saw the car smoldering on the side of the road. The wind had eased off, but the rain was still pouring down around him. He parked his own car on the verge, then unbuckled himself and slammed his door open. "ARYA! ARE YOU OUT HERE _KRAUTLET_?!" he called, putting his hands to his mouth, but there was no answer. He hurriedly scrambled down the muddy slope and wrenched open the door, then swore. Arya was slumped in the driver's seat, completely soaked, with her blonde hair several shades darker and hanging around her face, dressed in nothing but a thin black tanktop and sweatpants, either unconscious or- "Shit! Hey _krautlet, _you aren't dead in there, are you?!" he snapped as he shook her roughly, then noticed the blood smeared all over her arms and the inside of the car, as well as her car seat. He also saw the black-and-silver handle projecting from her left shoulder, and the one just above her hip.

He cursed again and yanked both of them out, then slung her uninjured arm over his shoulder and pulled her out of the car. "You better not have hypothermia when we get to the hospital." he muttered as he dragged her to his car, stumbling a little through the muck. He buckled her in, noting the steady flow of blood from her shoulder. "And don't die of bloodloss in the meantime either, you bitch." he ordered as he roughly wrapped a strip of his shirt over the wound, jerking the binding tight. She mumbled and twitched a little, and then her brown eyes squinted open. "Eh…Romano!" He blinked at her as he buckled himself in. "Oh, so you're awake now, _after_ I dragged your ass through the storm and the muck and the rain?!" he barked, and she chuckled weakly. "Hehe, sorry about that…ow." She winced and grabbed at her shoulder, then blinked. "A bandage? Wow, thanks dude." He hunched his shoulders, looking irritable as he started up the car. "Don't make a fuss over it, you're a woman and it's my job as an Italian to take care of you if you're in trouble." he snorted, waving his hand at her dismissively. "Now, let's get you to a hospital."

_**3.43 PM, USA Central Time**_


	15. In Which The Gang Splits Up & Regroups

_**My deepest apologies, but I've been watching HetaOni all day and…yeah. Is it just me, or does it seem like the creator was borrowing a thing or two from Higurashi? Repeating time loops, false memories, not knowing where you stand, everybody's going crazy…maybe it's just me. But yeah, that's why I didn't finish this earlier. **_

_**November 30, 2014**_

_Arya's POV:_

"Uh, hey, Prussia?"

"_DO NOT WORRY FRAULIEN, ZE AWESOME PRUSSIA IS HERE FOR YOU NOW! DO NOT PANIC! EVERYTHING WILL BE ALRIGHT!_"

I sweatdropped. _I _was feeling fine, a bit lightheaded, and my shoulder and hip ached a lot, but other than that, I was perfectly fine from surviving my first murder attempt. Okay…maybe a little freaked out. And maybe I begged Romano to stay with me every night in case Luciano found us. And maybe I had one or two or three nightmares about the incident. The important thing was, my physical health was as good as it could be, what with being stabbed twice and wandering around in a thunderstorm and then passing out and crashing my car on the side of the road. Anyway, Romano had driven me to a small, run-down hospital on the outside of Munich, and I was calling Prussia to inform him of my recovery, or at least the beginnings of it.

It wasn't exactly easy.

"Look, Prussia, dude, I'm fine." I said into the phone, and he laughed weakly. "_It's alright to put on a brave front fraulien, now how bad is it?! Are you going to have to amputate!? Is it infected?! ARE YOU GOING TO DIE!?_" Several tick marks appeared on my forehead. Ooh, how I wished he was in arm's reach, so I could strangle him. "PRUSSIA I'M FINE! THERE'S NO INFECTION, MY WOUNDS AREN'T FATAL, AND I'VE ALREADY BEEN GIVEN ENOUGH BLOOD SO I WON'T DIE OF BLOOD LOSS EITHER!" I roared into the phone, and there was a moment of silence. "_Kesese, I know that. I already talked to Romano when you were asleep, we both know you're fine._" I sat there for a moment of stunned silence, my temper slowly smoldering to life. "YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!" I shrieked into the phone, and he roared with laughter. _I should've suspected something when he was so concerned about me._ "DON'T JOKE ABOUT THAT!"

"_KESESE! I WISH I COULD'VE SEEN YOUR FACE FRAULIEN!_"

A gloom cloud grew over me. _I hate him. I hate him so much._ "So, how're things in the north?" I asked as I leaned back against my covers, abruptly changing my mood, and he cackled. "_Kesese, these losers are no match for ze awesome Prussia! Things are going great up here. Apparently that trick Romano pulled with the mirror works for all of them._" I blinked twice. "Huh?" He sighed with false drama. "_You know fraulien, when he broke the mirror over zat one double's head. Apparently it sends zem back if you smash a mirror und they're touching it. Cool huh?_" I immediately took out my journal and scribbled it down. "Thanks man, that could really help us. So, how _are_ things with the 2ps?" He sighed. "_Romano's avoiding his brother, saying he's looking for you. Italy's distraught, supposedly, zat you disappeared or ran away or whatever. I snuck into the house one time, there isn't a great big mirror like the others have had. Why do you think zat is?_"

I rubbed the back of my head. "I have no idea. Maybe it's in a hidden room or something, or the strongest 2ps don't need a mirror to cross over, at least not after a while. Maybe he was so desperate to catch us that he just sorta took over. If so, that means they do know what their originals are thinking or seeing, so that's not good." Prussia grumbled under his breath in what I thought was German. Hard to tell when it was so quiet. "Speaking of me, what about Germany? What'd you guys tell him?" I asked curiously, feeling concerned. Germany had been a good friend, and inadvertently saved my life several times during the 2p hunt because of his grueling workouts. "_Italy came to him whining und wailing about you being missing, so he knows that version. We aren't sure whether or not to tell him the real one._" I sighed and nodded. "Perfectly reasonable I guess, yeah. I do _not_ want 2p Germany after us."

"_I'm curious, what's that one like?_"

I sighed again and ran my fingers through my hair, thinking. "He's a hell of a lot lazier, he's got fuchsia eyes, a scar on his left cheek, he likes cats, and is way more perverted. In the 2p verse or whatever, he takes orders from Italy and not the other way around. There are a bunch of other conflicting details, but those are the ones most of them agreed on." There was a moment of silence, and then he chuckled. "_Wow, West sure knows how to pick 'em._" I sweatdropped. "I don't think you can choose your second player…" I mumbled, and he snickered again. There was a pause, then he hesitantly asked "_So…what's mine like?_" I squinted. 2p Prussia was _not_ one of the better developed second players. "I think he looks a lot like you, except he has scars and is usually very depressed and kinda a bit of a buzzkill. He has self-esteem problems too, I think."

"_That me is decidedly unawesome._"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, whatever. So, now that I'm down and out, how're we going to go about this?" Romano shoved open the door as I was speaking, eating a packet of chips. "_Well, I've practically finished things up here with ze Nordics, maybe Romano can go over und check things in ze Americas while I take care of Europe?_" I looked at said Italian as he finished up his most recent chip. "You think you're good for going to America?" He glowered at me. "Why can't you come with?!" he groused, and I pointed to my left side. "I got stabbed!" I spluttered, and he folded his arms pettishly. "You can still _move_ can't you?!" We began a lengthy, shouted argument, with insults flying thick and fast and many angry hand gestures from the both of us, until one of the nurses came in and told Romano if he didn't stop shouting he'd be removed from the premises for disturbing the patients. Prussia chipped in helpfully from my phone as soon as the ringing silence fell. "_They said you'd be better in a few weeks, Romano und me can clear out Europe by then, und then you can go to America with him._" I stared at the phone in shock. "Prussia, you made a relevant suggestion. A _helpful _relevant suggestion."

"_Kesese, I have to keep you losers on your toes. Over and out!_"

The phone clicked off.

_***One Week Later***_

I was playing Bejeweled Blitz on my phone one rainy Thursday afternoon after our planning and subsequent split-up last week, using my left arm for the first time since what felt like forever. The wound was all closed, although they said it would leave a scar for quite a while before fading, and the one on my hip had luckily missed all the important arteries and my bone, so _it_ was also well on the way to recovery. The nurse (the same one who had all but kicked Romano out last week) who had charge of me said that I could go home tomorrow, provided I didn't do anything strenuous like running, gymnastics, arm wrestling, etc. for another two weeks, and even then to take it lightly, unless I wanted my arm to possibly get damaged for the rest of my life. In other words, I couldn't do anything useful in the crusade against the second players for the next two weeks. I wasn't happy with that, but hey, you couldn't have anything, and I was just glad I wasn't staying in the vulnerable hospital anymore.

The door slammed open, and I looked up as Romano marched into the room, along with Prussia. "Are either of you capable of opening a door quietly?" I asked absently as I swiped my finger across the screen, and Prussia cackled. "Kesese, of course not. How's the arm?" I had been allowed to change back into what I was beginning to think of as my combat pajamas, and I gave him a thumbs up with my injured arm. "Practically good as new, although it still twinges when I move. I'm due to be released tomorrow, but I'm not supposed to do anything strenuous, like exercise and combat, for two whole weeks. Are you guys sure you can't just like zap me healed like when you get hurt?" Prussia shook his head. "Nah, I can't 'cause I'm not an official country anymore." he said in a rare moment of seriousness, as well as self-crimination, and looked at Romano pointedly, who waved his hands in front of himself defensively. "Look buddy, I'd love to, but we need to get approval from our bosses, since it borrows health from our citizens to impart into us, and I _don't _want to have to explain this to mine. Who knows, he might be in on it." We all nodded sadly.

"So," I said as I flexed my right arm a few times. "How's it been?" They both looked at each other, and then Prussia went to check the hallway as Romano looked out the window. I was on the ground floor, and luckily there weren't any shrubs or bushes or things that could hide a malignant visitor. He closed the window just as Prussia did the same for the door, and we all made a circle as they stood next to the bed and I scooted closer. "We've had a few close calls. Ever since you two slipped up or whatever und Italy's 2p caught you, they've been a lot more vigilant, hiding their mirrors, so on und so forth. I had to tangle with 2p Russia one-on-one yesterday –fucker gave me a real hard time too. See?" Prussia pulled his shirt to one side, showing many healing bruises marked on his shoulder and torso. "Apparently he likes to use a metal pipe too, und he's good with it." I whistled under my breath. Anybody who could wield a metal pipe with enough force and efficiency to bruise a country –even a former one– for that long was formidable. "You got him though, right?"

Prussia snorted and waved a hand at me. "Of course I did, I'm ze awesome Prussia after all!" Romano and I deadpanned. "Of course…" we both muttered, and I looked at him. "How about you?" A body-length shudder ran down his form. "I had to deal with the doubles of Lichtenstein and her _fratello _Switzerland. She's very _loud_." he whimpered, and I patted his shoulder comfortingly. Prussia folded his arms behind his head and leaned back in the plastic hotel chair, putting his feet up on my bed. "So, we've taken care of all the "minor" 2ps. Now we start on the major. So _fraulien, _who first?" he asked me predatorily, and I frowned and tapped my finger against my phone case. _2p England's most likely still too strong…2p America is too violent for me in my current state…same goes for 2p Canada…and Romano took out 2p France last Sunday, 2p Germany hasn't appeared yet…but 2p Italy's more than prepared for us…_ A brilliant plan popped into my head, just like flipping on a switch. "Alright, let's kill two birds with one stone…"

_**8.29 PM, USA Central Time **_


	16. In Which There Are Several Crashes

_**Damn you, HetaOni, for being so interesting. Sorry, but I think I finished it, at least up until they did…I dunno. Fanmade games are always so tricky to figure out, published/availability-wise. Today's the last day of Thanksgiving Break, so tomorrow I start a new trimester and various other things. *sigh* I hate school. This story is honestly progressing much faster than I thought it would be…which is one of the many reasons I like to start with an idea, then establish an end, and then just let my thoughts meander randomly until I get to said conclusion. With correctly developed characters, the story just leads itself! (Sucks for some scenes I want to put in though, because I'll be like "Oh, but Arya wouldn't do that", or "Crap, that wouldn't work since she did such-and-so…") Anyway. On with the story.**_

_**December 1, 2014**_

_Arya's POV:_

"You know, this seemed so much more legit when we discussed it earlier." I deadpanned, staring at Germany's house from the shelter of several conveniently placed bushes in the park nearby.__Prussia snorted from beside me and slapped my back. "You're a smart girl, you'll think of something!" he snickered cheerfully, and I glowered at him as he pulled out his phone and dialed Romano. "How're things in pasta country?" he asked wickedly, and I heard my friend's angry voice on the other end. "_I'll have you know the bastardo who took my fratello over is chasing me right now, so yeah, I'd say it's going pretty fucking well!_" he snarled, and I went pale as Prussia cackled and turned the phone off. "_That_ was your distraction?!" I whisper-shrieked, and he grinned. "Kesese, it got his attention didn't it?" I ground the heels of both hands into my temples. _Don't lose your temper, don't lose your temper, don't lose your temper… _I thought repeatedly to myself, then sighed and looked up. "So I'd better hurry up, shouldn't I?"

"Probably. Good luck _fraulien_!"

I sweatdropped as I crept out from under the bushes. "I'll need it…" I muttered to myself as I dusted off my clothes, then straightened my back and marched up to Germany's house. I took in a deep breath, then opened the door. _I got this, I got this, it won't go wrong, I got this._ I repeated to myself as I heard footsteps echo from inside the hallway, clenching my fists. _But more than ever…if I mess up on this one, I'm dead. And not just me, Prussia and Romano too. I can't afford to make a single mistake. _The door opened, and I affixed a sheepish smile on my face. "_Hallo, kann ich_ –Arya?!" Germany stared at me, his mouth hanging. I chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of my neck. "Hehe…sorry Germany, things have been kinda hectic lately, so…I haven't been able to contact you or…um, Italy. Listen, can I come in?" He regained his voice and nodded, ushering me in. "Of course! We've been worried sick, did you find your parents? Zat was why you were gone, right?" I looked around his house. Nothing was visibly untidy…but that only meant 2p Germany hadn't gotten a really firm grip on his original yet.

"Not…_exactly_…"

He waved me into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. "Here, drink this und tell me the whole story. You're…shaking a bit, is something wrong?" His bright blue eyes held only honest concern, and I tore my own away from his house and smiled in what I hoped wasn't a sickly way. "Er, yeah, sorry…I've been under a lot of stress." _Is he serious? Did I…make a mistake? I-I thought I had calculated it all out…_ I thought pensively as I looked down at the dark black drink, then pretended to take a sip._ Even if he does seem to be completely under his own influence…I shouldn't trust him. _He began rustling around the kitchen, fetching his own mug and slowly pouring a cup for himself. "I…well, it's a bit complicated. Can I trust you to believe me _Deutschland_? It's all pretty crazy…"

His hand jerked a little bit. "Trust me? _Ja_…_ja_, of course." he said vaguely, almost in a dazed tone of voice, then more firmly. He shook his head slightly, as if clearing it, and walked back to the kitchenette counter. His eyes were downcast, and I bit my lip. "So…well, um…it's kinda hard to figure out where to start." He rubbed his forehead. "_Ja_…" he muttered, as if his head hurt. My fists, hidden under the table, tightened. "Are you okay Germany?" I asked hesitantly, shifting a little on my seat. He rubbed his forehead gingerly, his shoulders tensing slightly. "_Nein…_my head just hurts all of a sudden. You were saying something about…starting?" I rubbed my thumb over my knee. "Well, it started a few weeks ago when those guys chased Romano…" I blinked and leaned forward. "Uh Germany, did you hurt yourself earlier?" His tired blue eyes blinked up at me, clearly confused. "_Was…nein._ W-why?" he mumbled, and I tapped my own cheek in demonstration, my own face screwed up in confusion. "You've got like a scar, right here."

He put his hand to his cheek dazedly. "_Nein…_I-I haven't hurt myself recently…wait, _nein, _I did. Luciano…he cut me when we were…no, what am I saying?!" he slurred, his voice going slightly deeper, then rising to his normal tone abruptly, his head lowering on his neck as if under unbearable auditory pressure. "I didn't hurt myself recently…no, I didn't." he finally said in a clearer voice, looking up at me and attempting a smile. I didn't smile back. "Uh…right…" I said between my teeth, then stood up and backed about five paces away, taking my new pocketknife out of my pocket and opening it with a flick. Germany looked alarmed, starting to come to his feet. "Arya, what are you-" I cut him off, aiming the knife at my friend threateningly as he stopped. "Look buddy, I know you're trying to come out, and I just fucking _dare_ you to try it. I got rid of the other ones, and I'll get rid of you too." I said challengingly, and Germany blinked in alarm, clearly thinking I was insane. "Arya, listen-"

He suddenly blurted a curse in German and staggered, clutching his head. "Ngh…_ was zur H__ö__lle_?" he gasped, then cried out and fell. I flexed the fingers of my injured hand unconsciously, taking another deep breath to try and calm myself. I heard a quiet curse in German, and then the body on the floor rose. His coat was hanging on his shoulders instead of buttoned up, and he was wearing a loose white tank top under it. His eyes were a bright fuchsia, and the scar on his left cheek was now clearly defined. He smirked at me dangerously as he pulled the coat the rest of the off, flexing his much bigger muscles as he laid it on the table. "You're a brave one,_ k__ä__tzchen_." I trembled slightly, the _wrongness_ radiating from him in waves, and stepped back to brace my foot against the edge of the kitchen door. "Tough talk coming from a copycat _arschloch_." I snarled, hiding my absolute terror, and he smirked and confidently walked around the small island. Hell, why wouldn't he be confident? I was a human, he was a country (even if he was an evil one), and he could probably crush my skull like an eggshell with one hand while holding off my tiny little knife with the other and not even break a sweat.

Luckily for little 'ol me, I had backup.

"PRUSSIA! NOW!" I screamed, and 2p Germany stopped short, a shocked look on his face. But it was too late for him to do anything. With an almighty bellow, Prussia broke through the window (when I described the plan to him, I had a feeling he had wanted to do that for a while) and landed on the floor. 2p Germany turned to face him, disregarding me as a threat, and I quickly picked up the oval mirror Prussia had snuck into the kitchen earlier. Heaving it up, feeling the barely healed wound in my shoulder twinge in protest, I staggered forward and hit it as hard as I could across 2p Germany's head. He crumpled, and I saw shards of mirror glass under him. They were momentarily distorted, showing a kitchen just like Germany's, but far more cluttered, and then they cleared, showing the same one as normal.

Prussia dropped his combative stance, then approached his younger brother nervously. "Eh...West?" He knelt beside him, lifting the remains of the mirror back off him. _Oh shit, did I just kill Germany?_ I thought in panic, my face going pale. Prussia felt for his pulse, then abruptly relaxed. "Never mind…he's just knocked out. Probably better for us that way too." I nodded twice, relieved. I swallowed. "So…now 2p Italy?" He pumped his fist and grinned. "Hell ya!" I quickly scribbled out an apologetic note to Germany, then followed the former nation outside to get in the car to Italy. Prussia called the driver's seat and I slid into shotgun, buckling myself in. We were planning on the 2ps ability to communicate across long distances, however they did it, to alert 2p Italy to the fact I had just taken care of 2p Germany. I swallowed and fingered the knife in my pocket. _And when he does find out…_

It was only about five minutes later when he took us out in the mother of all car crashes.

_**8.55 PM, USA Central Time**_


	17. In Which Shards of Things Hurt

**_December 3, 2014_**

_Arya's POV:_

Everything slowed down, and white flashed before my eyes as the unholy screech of metal on asphalt and metal on metal filled my ears. Everything after that became a tumbling nightmare of dark metal, heat from the car, the sun, and what felt like blood, and flashes of light that seemed to be the sky, Prussia and myself, with a horrible sickening, whirling sensation of smashing _against _the side of the car, _into _the windowshield, _slamming_ into the other body in the car, and finally a long grinding _crunch_ as the car skidded to a halt, the both of us upside down and hanging from our seatbelts. My ears were ringing, my vision was somewhat skewed, and I saw Prussia groan and make a motion to hold his head, something crimson dripping off his silver bangs, but his seatbelt restrained him. "_Scheiße…_Arya, you okay?" My stomach lurched, and I weakly clawed at my seatbelt, my head spinning. "Imma gon' throw up…" I croaked hoarsely, my gorge rising.

He hissed something else in German and suddenly I was on the floor –roof– covered with shattered glass and metal shards, and he was holding my seatbelt button down. "Thks…" I managed to gulp, before I had keeled over and was retching my guts out. Right now, I didn't give a shit about who had most likely hit us, right now I just wanted the world to stop spinning and my stomach to stop lurching. Spots swam in front of my eyes, and I took a couple of deep gasps before shakily wiping my mouth and looking up. Prussia tactfully kicked the door open on the opposite side of my vomit and staggered out; I crawled after. By some miracle, I only had a hell of a lot more cuts, and a large amount of bruises, and probably some glass shards here and there; but no broken bones, _probably_ no concussions, and I hadn't died. Of course, now I was rather certain we had to deal with a pissed-off-

"FUCK YOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

I clung to the shattered remains of the car and pulled myself up; it seemed Prussia, whether coincidentally or by design, had taken the brunt of the crash, and I could _see_ the shrapnel in his arms and legs, as well the way he held his side like he had broken a rib or two. However, he was healing, if not rapidly, steadily, and it looked like he needed to be, because a certain pissed-looking Italian was advancing from the wreckage of another car, one I recognized as Italy's precious red convertible. He had knives between the fingers of his left hand in a suspiciously Wolverine-like style, and was brandishing another, longer one (in the usual way) in his right hand. It looked like the one I had found in Italy's car, so maybe it was his favorite or something like that.

_Oh…oh shit._ Was my succinct thought, and from the absolutely furious look in his magenta eyes, it was a correct statement. We didn't have a sufficient mirror large enough to smash over him or push him through, and from the insults flying thick and fast between him and Prussia, we weren't going to be given the chance to find one. _Not that there would be many mirrors in the middle of nowhere. _I looked around vaguely for a weapon, but I was still dizzy as hell from the crash, and I literally swayed on my feet as I gripped weakly at the shattered body of the car. "_Fraulien, _we're not all that far from West's house. Run along and fetch him, would you?" Prussia said calmly, cracking his knuckles menacingly as he stopped clutching his side. I stared at him. Prussia _never_ asked for _anyone's _help. Ever. He snorted and faked his usual laugh. "Kesese! I don't need help, I just –tch!– wouldn't want you to feel useless! Plus we need a mirror to absorb this little shit after I'm done beating the ever-loving pasta out of him!"

"Prussia, he's probably not-"

"GO!"

I whimpered a curse under my breath and began painfully limping back to Germany's house.

_***Time Skip***_

"_Deutschland! Deutschland!_" I called raggedly, my head spinning worse than ever. The world swam before my eyes, and I had vomited twice more on the way here. "_Deutschland, bitte!_" His house was quiet, ominously so, but my only focus was getting help and then collapsing. "Mnn…Arya? _Was_…" I heard Germany's voice and stumbled towards the sound, remembering hazily that we had left him in the kitchen. He was just getting to his feet as I staggered in, tiny shards of mirror in his hair and on his clothes. He turned towards me, a lost and dazed look in his eyes. "_Arya, was hast du_- you look like you've been in a car crash!" I nodded, a weak excuse for a chuckle echoing from within my aching chest. "_Ja_, I mean, yeah, I have. Listen, we need a mirror with at least a square foot of glass. Prussia's in trouble, so's Italy."

His blue eyes widened. "What?! Arya, you're not making any sense, und you're going to fall over any second!" From the way the world was spinning, he was probably right, but I didn't have time to collapse. "P-please Germany, _bitte_. Just take the road to Italy's house…with a mirror, as fast as you can. Find Prussia and give the mirror…to him, he's going to die if you don't! And Italy-" My stomach lurched as vertigo overtook me, and I slid to my knees. "Italy…" I gasped, clinging to the wall with one hand as black spots overcame my vision. _No damnit, not yet! Not yet! I came all this way, not yet!_ "He's…" I tried to say "he's not himself, don't trust him", but I don't know whether or not it got out before I went under.

_3rd Person's POV:_

Germany stared at the human as she collapsed, but he had no time to waste, judging by her injuries. Nor did he have the time to properly tend to them; Prussia and Italy were in trouble. He compromised with placing her on a couch, pulling out the worst of the shrapnel and hastily bandaging the worst of her wounds, then snatched a mirror hanging in the second-floor hallway and went to his car. He put it in the front seat and turned the keys, his mind racing. His head hurt a lot, and memories were hazy…something about Arya coming over, and coffee, and then oooh his _head_, and then falling and waking up and…what?

It was like he blacked out; he remembered doing something, but what that something was totally eluded him. The next thing that came with any clarity was waking up amidst the wreckage of a strange mirror, not one that he owned, and Arya's voice in the hallway. He glanced at the mirror by his side. _Does all this have something to do with the amnesia disease? Does Arya know something we don't?_ He thought uneasily, and his fingers tightened on the wheel. _And_ _she said both Italy and Prussia were in trouble; two of the most important people in mein life…annoying as they both are. I have to help them. I may not have a clue about __what's going on, but I have to help them. _

_**9.43 AM, USA Central Time**_


	18. In Which We Sic 'Em

_**Apologies, but I completely forgot about this…and Fanfiction in general. I've been busy adjusting to the new trimester, don't sweat it. I have English this tri, which is obviously going to be easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy. I write for a **__living__**. (Well…not a living…but it might as well be.) You know what I mean. And don't think I'm usually putting chapters out this fast, or with this sort of lightheartedness. I'm attempting to stay "in-universe", which means that I have to stick to the relatively happy and nicey-niceness that goes around in Hetalia. I usually hang onto chapters a good week or two before I actually finish and publish them. (And no, I don't deliberately hold them back, it just takes me that long to type them from start to finish, since I can rarely focus for more than two or so hours before I get bored, which means I get about 700-some words down, which is roughly one-half to one-third of a chapter.) Anyway, on with the show.**_

_**December 7, 2014**_

_3__rd__ Person POV:_

Prussia, awesome as he was, was in trouble, and that was most assuredly _not_ awesome. After he had sent the _fraulien _off to fetch West, the second player/alternate/double/whatever-the-hell-he-was had attacked him in earnest, most likely because he most _definitely _did not want said help to be forthcoming. In a fistfight, Prussia would've been his most awesome equal, but when the 2p had fucking knives, and knew how to use them, and was really, _really_ fast, Prussia found himself contemplating the concept of _running away_, which was by far the most unawesome thing to do in this kind of situation. If he ran now, the 2p would either follow him into the woods, which would throw West off the track, or he would go after the _fraulien, _who wouldn't stand a chance against him even if she _did_ find Germany, because both would be disoriented and West would possibly be still wounded. Arya hadn't gotten the worst of it, as far as being in a fucking car crash went, but she was still a human, and it had hit her human body hard.

"So, why are you doing this, eh?" Prussia taunted, holding his bloody shoulder as the 2p circled him, the gleam of bloodlust and anger still bright in his eyes. "Face it _dummkopf_, we're all onto you at zis point. It's futile to keep trying to take us over." he said smugly. The double's magenta eyes flashed angrily. "You fucking _idiotas_ don't even know what you have here. You have _life _and completeness and a whole world of your own, and you _squander_ it by fucking playing around _all the time_. We're done being the neglected "other half" of your happy little lives. If you don't know how good you have it, we're going to remind you by taking it _away_!" he snarled, lunging forward and slashing at him with the knives held in his left hand. Prussia dodged and flashed his foot forward, aiming a kick at the 2p's wrist. Quick as thought, he whipped his other hand around and cut the tendons in that leg, and Prussia hissed and backed away rapidly on one foot as the tissue began slowly mending. _Not being a country anymore really fucking sucks! This is so not awesome! Back in my glory days, I could've kicked this little shit from here all the way back to Italy with one hand tied behind my back! _He thought angrily, testing his ankle as the 2p chuckled and began to advance.

The sound of a car was the most musical thing in the world, seconded only by the shout of his _bruder. _"PRUSSIA! AND YOU TOO, I…**ITALY**?!" Prussia cursed under his breath. Arya must've just been able to tell him to get help and come with a mirror, she hadn't been able to tell him about the 2ps before fainting or dying or whatever she had done. _That is so unawesome. _He risked glancing over his shoulder, only to see Germany staring at both him and 2p Italy with an expression of pure shock and a tiny bit of revulsion. Prussia didn't blame him; the sickening aura that came from Italy was nearly enough to make _him _hurl. "WEST, WE DON'T HAVE TIME FOR EXPLINATIONS, JUST TOSS ME THE VERDAMMT MIRROR!" he shouted as he dodged another knife swipe from the second player. Germany fumbled for the wrapped package, then got out of the car and shouted to him. "_Preußen, hier!_"

Prussia turned, jumped, and just barely caught the mirror before a line of fire marked itself on his ribs and stomach. He hissed in pain before collapsing to the road, blood pouring from his stomach. "Italy! Stop!" Germany shouted, his fists trembling as he looked from one of them to the other in confusion, trying to decide what to do. Prussia snickered weakly as he pulled the mirror out of its packaging. "Told ya, we know who und what you are now." he croaked as he stood, grinning. "NOW!" 2p Italy hissed in shock as something bound his arms from behind, struggling wildly as Prussia hefted the mirror above his head. "_Auf Wiedersehen_~!" he sang happily with a trademark grin, and smashed the mirror down. Black mist tore away from 2p Italy's face as the knives clattered to the ground, and he sagged in the arms of–

Romano.

Both of them looked at each other, panting hard, as Italy's clothes and colors slowly reverted to his own, and Romano dropped him in the dust, then frowned. "Where's the _krautlet_?" he asked, his eyes roving the track behind Prussia, and he laughed weakly. "Got into a car crash, sent her to West's house, und after that, no idea." Both of them turned to Germany, who was approaching the scene of the crime, taking turns at staring at Romano, Prussia, Italy, and the wrecks of the cars. "_Was…__**was**__..._" he gasped, and Prussia slapped him on the back. "Listen _bruder, _it's a very long story, and we'll tell you everything once we get home. Arya did make it to your house, didn't she?" Pushed into a state past numbness, Germany nodded blankly. "_Ja, _she's on a couch in the living room. Shrapnel wounds und some heavy bruising, but she's alive." Romano bent down and took his brother's body by the wrists. "Well, let's drag this little _idiota_ to the car and drive home."

_Arya's POV:_

My eyes cracked open, and I stared at the ceiling of what seemed to be Germany's living room. My whole body felt like it was on fire, but luckily my nausea had passed. I managed to work myself around so that I was laying on my side, and blinked as I saw Italy's body lying on the other couch. I opened my mouth to scream, but just as soon as the impulse came upon me, it passed. Italy looked peaceful, normal, and more importantly, in his usual outfit and colors. I relaxed, or as much as I was able with my achy body, and sighed. "Ahem." I jumped and looked over, and I saw Romano, Prussia, and Germany all sitting in the armchairs that had been scattered about the room, now pushed so that they sorta formed half of a square, with the two couches being two sides and one other left open. They all had dinner plates in their laps, and Prussia immediately levered back his spoon and flicked a pea at me. It bounced off my nose and rolled somewhere on the floor as I gave him a withering glare. "I've been passed out from a car accident for who _knows_ how long, and the way you greet me is with a pea to the face?" I said croakily, and he grinned. "Kesese, you're just like West!"

Romano waved me down as I made a motion to sit up. "Don't try it _krautlet, _the potato bastard got one of his doctors to look at you, and you aren't supposed to get up for at least another two days. Something about internal stress. In other words, you aren't to move a single inch until we say so." I glared at him. "Then how am I gonna write in my journal?" He took a bite of pizza. "You aren't." he said around what seemed to be several layers of cheese. I began glaring daggers at him, doing my best to send a Russia-level aura of evil, and he flinched. Germany lightly bopped me on the head. "Stop zat. Now, what are we going to do about these 2ps?" I gave my comrades a shocked glare. "You _told_ him?!"

"He saw me fighting that douchebag Luciano. We had to tell him _something._"

"Fair enough."

Germany carefully placed a tray of food over my stomach, and I scooted backwards until my head was against the armrest and I could at least eat without choking. "So, now that I am more than officially laid up, what's the game plan? We still have to deal with 2p America, Canada, and England, and they're the biggest baddies of the bunch." I said as I took a bite of some kind of potato and gravy dish Germany had predictably mashed up. Romano cupped his chin. "Well now that we have the potato bastard _and_ his idiot _fratello_ for both muscle and infiltration, we don't really _need_ you anymore, except for information. You can give them that and they'll be off on their way." Germany didn't miss the "they". "Wait, aren't you going to help us Romano?" The Italian glared at him. "I'm only here to make sure the _signorina_ doesn't get in over her head, it's one of the few things we Italians can pride ourselves on, besides pasta and white flags. Now that she can sic you two on them, I'm out."

I frowned. "But what if they come after you?" He snorted and leaned back. "Please, for one wayward Italian whose 2p doesn't even know how to fight? I think they'll leave me be." He did have a point. 2p South Italy was either a complete pansy _or_ interested in fashion-related killing only, neither of which would do the enemy any good. "So…what about _me_?" I asked nervously, and they all blanked. "Uh…" Prussia murmured, looking at the front door. "They know she's at your house West, und they know she's basically helpless. If she stays here, I wouldn't place two Euros on her life." Romano rubbed her temples. "Ah, I was really looking forward to going home and relaxing from this idiotic adventure." Germany began to pace. "I can send her to one of my government's safe houses, zat will do until we get rid of the last three. Unless you two got rid of the second players for Hungary and Austria?"

Prussia held up his hand. "Both of zem, it was the easiest job I've ever done. Austria is a real loser, no matter which one he is!" he cackled, and Germany "hmmed" in thought. "We could send her to them…" I sighed and stared up at the ceiling as they sunk into various plans to keep me out of the reach of any 2ps who came looking for revenge. _You know, I really hate being a burden, especially a wounded one. _I thought as their voices faded in from the background. "-alright, so we'll send her to one of your government houses until we get done with the ones in the Americas, and then we'll come back and she'll hopefully be healed enough that we all can attempt an attack on 2p Britain." Prussia said decisively, and I craned my neck. "So does that mean I have to get up?"

_**1.21 PM, USA Central Time**_


	19. In Which Things Get Rotten

**_December 9, 2014_**

_Arya's POV:_

"_Guten morgen Frau Schmidt._" I said weakly as I lifted my head up from the pillow, watching the nurse Germany had sent skip into the room. Her name was Frau Schmidt and she was about twenty or thirty years old, brunette, with pretty blue eyes. She nodded to me cheerily. "_Guten morgen!_" she agreed in a happy voice, bustling towards me and setting my breakfast tray in my lap. I licked my lips and sat up, wincing and trying to ignore the various twinges that sounded all over my body. She was a good cook, but the amount of bruises all over my body made movement a bit painful. I had doctor's clearance to move around (i.e. get out of bed) today though, so I was damn well going to try. It had been two days since I was more or less booted off the team, and I felt antsy.

"Um, _ich…ich…_" I mumbled, trying to remember the word for "want". "_Ich möchte aufstehen heute?_" I tried, and she raised her eyebrows. "_Heute? Sind Sie verletzt?_" It took me a second to translate, and then I looked down, wiggled a bit, and seesawed my hand back and forth as I looked back up. "_Ein wenig…_" She frowned, and I waited patiently for the verdict. My German was a hell of a lot better than it had been, pre-Hetalia, but it was far from fluent and Frau Schmidt only spoke German, no English. (Neither of us was fluent enough in Italian to even bother trying.) She was a pretty damn good nurse though, and an even better cook. I watched as she reached out and took my temperature, opening and closing my mouth as directed. She also seemed to be a very mothering type.

She took the thermometer out of my mouth and peered at it owlishly, then smiled. "_Ja, du kannst aufstehen heute._" I whooped and quickly shoveled down the last few crumbs of my breakfast as she bustled back out. The "safe house" Germany had sent me to looked mostly like a normal apartment block on the outside, only inside nearly all the rooms were empty, and every last one had a two-inch thick steel door. There were a lot of cameras as well, and probably bugs, and I _knew_ there was some sort of security system installed for the windows, doors, and various other entrances, both conventional and otherwise. I was as safe as safe could be. Frau Schmidt, the handyman, and the young intern at the front desk were all full-blooded Germans and spoke nothing but German, so unless the 2ps got a hold of Austria, Prussia, or Germany himself, they couldn't touch me, as you needed clearance to even enter the building.

So thinking, I left my pocketknife on my nightstand and cautiously slid out of bed. Every muscle in my body twinged in protest as I winced painfully, but kept my somewhat shambling, limping walk up until I had reached the elevator, then the library, which was just next to the first-floor lobby. It was the only room in the place with wi-fi, which I needed to use the inter-language app I had installed on my phone. Immersion was working fast, but I wanted to be able to talk to Frau Schmidt and the others without groping for every other word. Putting my headphones in, I lost myself in the struggle to learn the German language, frequently cursing under my breath at the pronunciation.

That is, until muffled yelling registered through the sound of "der, die, das"ing, and I yanked out my earphones with a frown. Sound rushed in, and I heard more distinctive yelling, coming from the lobby. It wasn't German yelling either. It was only then that I noticed the uneasy, unsettlingly familiar feeling in my stomach, and I froze. With deliberate slowness, I unplugged my earphones from my phone and laid them on the side table, then typed out a message to Prussia and Romano, the only phone numbers I had saved. "_Someone's yelling in English in lobby. Got bad feeling. Going to check it out._" With equal slowness, I then put my phone in my fatigues (I was in my combat pajamas, oh how I loved them in this kind of situation) and crept out of the library.

The library and lobby were on the same side of the hallway, with some bathrooms and offices on the other. The elevators were directly across from the lobby entrance, of which there were no doors. I had heard they were metal slabs that could lock in a few seconds. A dark, black, glasslike substance, polished to a mirror shine, formed the lobby's rear wall and exit, which I was approaching. I peeked around the edge, my heart in my mouth. As I had approached the lobby, the yelling had gotten a lot louder, a lot more distinct, and a lot more ominous. "ALL I'M ASKING IS IF YOU FUCKING PEOPLE HAVE ONE FUCKING GUEST! EIN! ONE YOU FUCKING KRAUT, ONE! _GODDAMNIT_!"

I swallowed hard, my suspicions confirmed. A man about my own height with a bomber jacket, tan skin, and a suspiciously familiar hairstyle in the wrong color was haranguing the intern, gesturing wildly to make his point. She was shaking her head, repeating "_Ich kan nicht sprechen_" over and over again, eyeing him nervously. His black glasses were on his eyes for once, probably to hide their unusual color, and he didn't have a baseball bat full of nails, but even then I'd have to be blind and deaf not to recognize 2p America. I swallowed hard. _Shit. _That wasn't good; how the HELL had he found my safehouse?

Wait.

Mirrors.

The lobby wall was just as reflective as a mirror. And if 2p America wasn't alone-

Just as that thought came to me, a rush of vertigo and a hand wrapping around my elbow with a grip of iron warned me to the presence of another 2p as they yanked hard, trying to pull me in. I staggered backwards, away from the lobby entrance, and yanked back. The mirror rippled; a Canadian Mounty uniform, messy blonde ponytail, dull purple eyes, and a dangling cigarette told me exactly who I was dealing with as 2p Canada spat an oath at me and yanked harder. I bit my lip hard enough that I tasted blood; my whole body was aching demonically, warning me of the stress I was putting it under, but I instinctively knew that I COULD NOT allow him to pull me in, no matter what the consequences.

The problem was, even in my best condition, I could tell he would have been a hell of a lot stronger than me, and now, when I was more or less at my weakest, he had the distinct advantage. My elbow touched the mirror, and there was a split second of icy cold, and then my eyes widened as I was partially pulled _through_ the mirror. Every instinct in me revolted as the icy sensation reached my wrist, the rest of me in that OTHER world; it was _wrong_, wrong in a shuddering, bone deep way that made me feel sick to my stomach. I braced my feet against the wooden frame and _pulled_, and my arm slipped out of the mirror a few inches, then sank back in as he gave a vicious pull in revenge.

I wasn't going to make it.

I tried one last time, then swore under my breath and fished in my pocket. I had nothing but my phone and some lint, but as I scrabbled at the worn pocket, I could feel one of the metal buttons loosen up. I ripped it off and dropped it on the ground just as 2p Canada lost patience and _yanked_ me through the mirror with all his strength. It made me stumble forward, and by that time he got his other hand around my neck, and there was no way I could resist without breaking it. He pulled me into the mirror, and I shivered violently as a wash of iciness broke over my body, and then my stomach churned violently as stumbled onto some worn, rotting floorboards, the very epitome of difference from the soft carpet I had been standing on before.

2p Canada surprisingly let me go, and I whirled, hoping to find a mirror, only to see -a sigil. It reminded me vaguely of the ones England had used in the anime, but this one was clearly different, laid into the mildewed floorboards with some kind of equally tarnished metal. I immediately turned around again, backing away from 2p Canada, who watched me with a sneer on his face, but didn't move otherwise. He took a cellphone out of his pocket and held it to his ear, pressing a call button. There was a split second, and then something barked something. He answered, his dull purple eyes still fixed on me. "I got the bitch. You can come back now." he said calmly, then turned the phone off and put it in his pocket again.

I had managed to work my way nearly behind the sigil, and had also managed to get a scope of the room in the meantime. Everything had a faint tinge of decay, rust, or decomposition, except for 2p Canada himself and the battered hockey stick leaning against the far door, directly behind him. The rest of the room seemed to be a former living room, as drag marks on the floor indicated there had once been furniture here. There was a moldering table and chair set in the corner on one side, then a real mirror hanging on the wall on the other.

But since moving towards it would take me closer to the 2p, as well as the fact it reflected a perfectly "ordinary" (in other words, the same) living room, I decided not to go for it. There was an old chest of drawers on my right and on the far side of the sigil on the floor, a door on my immediate left that seemed to lead to the kitchen, and another one behind me. 2p Canada seemed to be standing in front of the door out of the house, or at least to the front hall, as the room behind him seemed to be bathed in sunlight.

Before I could try to run for it or formulate a plan, the sigil on the floor glowed a sickly, nearly volcanic red, and a foggy image formed above it, much like a disk of black mist, and I saw a masculine figure step out of it. He did so casually, like it was a routine, and my throat tightened as I recognized the baseball bat he had somehow recovered, bloodied nails stuck in it at various weird angles. At 2p Canada's nod, he turned, and I swallowed as he raised an eyebrow at me, grinning maliciously. I saw that, like in most of the fan art, he was missing one of his front teeth. "Well well, so this is the bitch that's been causing so much trouble?" he asked as he walked forward, and I resisted the urge to back up, no matter how much I dearly wanted to. _Alright Arya, you've gone and landed yourself in the lion's den. These are predators. Act like prey- _He raised the bat, his grin widening. _And you'll get yourself killed._

_**6.12 PM, USA Central Time**_

_**Translation:**_

_**"Good morning Miss Schmidt."**_

_**Good morning!"**_

_**"Um…I…I…"**_

_**"I want to get up today?"**_

_**"Today? Do you hurt?"**_

_**"A little."**_

_**"Yes, you can get up today."**_


	20. In Which Arya is Not in Kansas Anymore

**_December 10, 2014_**

_Arya's POV:_

_Don't act like prey, don't act like prey, don't act like prey._ I repeated steadily as I watched the nails come closer to my face, my clenched fists trembling. His dull crimson eyes bored into my own, and I held back a gulp, my stomach roiling. The 2ps were sickening enough in the real world, but here, in their own world, they were nauseating. He lightly tapped the end of his bat on my cheek, smirking. I tried not to shudder at the feeling the smears of semi-dried blood left on my face. "So, what are we gonna do with you, huh?" he asked me wickedly, bloodlust gleaming in his vibrant red eyes. I mustered up my courage, but before I could answer, 2p Canada interrupted us.

"We're supposed to deliver her unharmed, Allan. Or at least conscious and able to speak." he pointed out disinterestedly, shouldering his hockey stick as he approached the two of us. My eyes moved between one and the other, wondering which of them would be posing the greatest threat to my safety. 2p American, or Allan, as it was easier to call him, seemed more than willing to beat my brains out right here and now, but I knew 2p Canada's seeming apathetic attitude towards the situation could change in an instant, especially if I provoked him. So, taking a gamble…

"Deliver me to who? And for what?"

I made sure to sound nervous (it wasn't hard; I WAS nervous), but not scared. I also tried to sound a bit suspicious, as if I didn't already have a damn good idea of who told them to take me. 2p Canada remained deadpan. "You'll see when we get there, won't you." he said flatly, and Allan muttered something under his breath. I caught the words "cupcake bastard", and my heart froze. _If they take me to 2p England, I'm dead. I'm worse than dead._ I don't know how I knew it, but I knew in my gut that if they got me to their mastermind, something very, very bad was going to happen. _2p America is supposed to have a violent temper, and he and 2p Canada are also supposed to fight a lot. Maybe if I push them into fighting, I can go…_

I studied them frankly, a small frown crossing my face. "So is he like your boss or something? Or she?" I asked doubtfully, and Allan twitched. I yelped and skipped backwards, my muscles twinging in pain, as he swung the bat for my head, missing me by a scant hair. 2p Canada stepped forward, lowering his hockey stick menacingly. "Alive Allan, we need her _alive_!" he snapped, and Allan glared at him viciously. "Don't tell me what to do, faggot!" he snarled back, hefting his bat from where it had gouged into the floor. "I don't work for that cupcake bastard, and neither do you! Why the hell are we doing his dirty work anyway?!" 2p Canada stepped towards me slightly, making sure that if Allan went for me again he'd be able to stop the blow before it did me any serious damage. "I've told you, hoser, he's taking care of all the sigils _this girl_ and her fucking friends broke!"

My ears pricked up at that. Instead of mirrors, on this side we were breaking sigils? _Maybe I can use that to get back… _Allan glared at me from over 2p Canada's shoulder. "All the more reason to fucking kill her now!" 2p Canada shoved his brother. "We need her alive _for now_ Allan, so he can make her tell us what their plans are and how she knew about us! After that, he'll probably kill her himself!" Allan shoved him back, murder in his crimson eyes. "Which is exactly why we should beat him to the punch!" he shouted back, and 2p Canada punched him. I was pretty sure Allan was going to punch back, so before either of them noticed I crept away into what I had assumed was the kitchen.

I was in luck on this unlucky day; it was. Even better, there were knives, kitchen knives to be sure, but still a hell of a lot better than nothing. I took a mid-sized steak knife and stuck it in my belt before creeping out the other door in the kitchen, one that lead outside. To my surprise, this was seemingly the only lived-in house on the block. All the others were even more moldering and dead, like they were barely clinging to existence as it was. The sun was a sickly, almost watery shade of yellow, like it was in our world when it had to shine through a thick layer of rainclouds, and the sky was the same washed-out shade of blue. The only plant in sight was the grass growing in the front yards of all the houses, and it was knotted, dank, and lifeless. A chill slowly ran down my spine. More than anything else, this whole place…it's like it was dying by inches, merely by dint of existing. Like everything here had to struggle to be…to be alive at all.

But I couldn't stand around admiring the scenery, or the lack thereof; the 2ps would be after me soon. I set off down the street, going left on a whim. The faint sounds of the fight indoors became nonexistent as soon as I crossed out of their yard, and I glanced around nervously. The whole street seemed to be dead silent, with absolutely nothing alive around here at all, not even birds or small animals. As I walked, I began to understand that I was in what passed for a neighborhood in their world; many houses gathered together, but absolutely no occupants in any. I adjusted my walk to be quieter, realizing that anyone coming to the aid of the 2ps would most certainly hear _me_ coming in this still, almost dead silence, and there were a lot of places to ambush someone.

Suddenly my phone buzzed; I jumped and nearly shrieked. Faint as the buzzing was, any sound at all was startling after this long, unending silence. I fished in my pocket and pulled it out, swiping to see several texts.

_"West says you're gone from the hotel, and the staff say a man with 2p America's description was taking to them earlier! What the hell happened?!"_

_-The Awesome Prussia_

_"I found a button from your clothing, you'd better not be dead krautlet!"_

_-Romano_

_"Arya, if you come home I promise I'll make pasta! Please come back, we're really worried!"_

_-Italy_

_"If you don't have cellphone coverage, you can at least text! Where are you Aryana, we can help if you give a thorough description!"_

_-Germany_

I looked around and ducked into a convenient alley. Taking out my phone again, I began typing a message I could send to Germany, as he probably would get the most sense out of it. _"The wall at the back of the lobby is mirrorlike enough that the 2ps can use it to cross over; 2p Canada and America double-teamed me and dragged me in. I'm in the 2p world now; it's mostly dead and not a lot of people seem to exist besides the second players. I think they cross mirrors via some kind of sigil; if I find another house that the 2ps have lived in, I'll take a picture and send it to you. Maybe one of the countries with magic can figure it out. I exited the house 2p America and Canada were in and turned left; I'm planning on continuing this way until I find some kind of landmark. I'll wait there and try and figure out what to do; I'm not going to stay anywhere near the 2ps if I can help it. Maybe I can try to copy the sigil and just step on it? I think the others break or get defaced or **something** when we break the mirrors from our side; they said something about 2p Britain going around to fix them."_

I hit send and waited patiently. Sure enough, there was another buzz about a minute later, and a text popped up on my phone.

_"How did they pull you through?"_

_-Germany_

_"Literally. 2p Canada grabbed me by the elbow and yanked me in; face it Deutschland, ever since the car crash I haven't been able to keep up with my training, so he was a hell of a lot stronger than me."_

_-Rye-Rye_

_"Fair enough. Are you panicking?"_

_-Germany_

_"No, I'm fine. At this point, I think I'm all panicked-out. What should I do?"_

_-Rye-Rye_

_"Staying put is probably not an option. These "second players" are in their own world now, it may be that they are stronger, and it is almost certain that they know the terrain better than you. Keep moving, and try not to leave traces of yourself around. You said there wasn't anyone else?"_

_-Germany_

_"Nothing and nobody. The only living thing besides me, 2p America, and 2p Canada I've seen in about five minutes of walking through a suburb is the freaking grass in the yards."_

_-Rye-Rye_

_"That's both good and bad. You could've blended in with some of the locals, with enough effort, but if there are no locals, then that also means there is no one to betray you and hand you over to them. You said that there were some pleasant second players?"_

_-Germany_

_"Pleasant may or may not be stretching it. The stories in the book were extremely vague and differed from each other a lot in the details. It will suffice to say that yes, some of the 2ps are less aggressive then the others, but less murderous…maybe not."_

_-Rye-Rye_

_"Try seeking them out in the meantime. We'll be working on how to get you out; based on your information on the sigils, we probably shouldn't be hunting the other 2ps. If we find them, we'll interrogate them for you. Good luck."_

_-Germany_

_"Good luck."_

_-Rye-Rye_

**_4.54 PM, USA Central Time_**


	21. In Which There is Much Running

**_The bit about the texts going through different dimensions was not really thought through when I wrote it down, but I can excuse myself with the fact that the phones already had a connection with each other, thus the texts were able to go through. We don't frequently get texts from different realities because the phones from that reality have never texted ours, thus, they can't bridge the distance because they have no ending point. Or that's my reasoning of it at least, feel free to draw your own conclusions._**

**_December 14, 2014_**

_Arya's POV:_

I skidded through a puddle of something best left unidentified, darting around a corner and flattening myself against the weary brick wall. I slowed and then stopped my frantic panting, trying to slow my heartbeat as well, my eyes shut tightly. _I'm not here, I'm not here, I'm not here…_I thought frantically, listening with all my might. I knew better than to peek around the corner and check for my pursuers; they'd probably throw something at me, and that something had about a ninety-five percent chance of being sharp, pointy, and fatal. I didn't even know who it _was_ at this point; I did know that at the beginning of the chase 2p America, Canada, and Italy had definitively been involved. Chills ran up and down my spine as I heard oaths in multiple different languages approaching, and dove inside a dumpster at the same time three pairs of feet flashed by.

Luckily, it was empty, and the bang of me falling was covered by their curses, which at this point were loud and foul enough to strip paint. I trembled at the bottom of the dumpster as they pounded by; if they caught me, it was going to hurt. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure _that_ out; they were promising some pretty nasty things as they ran past, should they get their hands on me anytime soon. I wasn't going to give them the chance.

I debated staying in here until pursuit died down, but that was unrealistic. If they found me, I'd be trapped like a rat, and even though venturing out was equally dangerous, it at least had the benefit of running space. I was still bring chased in the strange, empty set of suburbs that I had been summoned, or more appropriately, dragged into, but I was nearing the edge of the "city". I could see a distinct lack of roofs towards the direction the 2ps had run, so, gathering my courage with both hands, I heaved myself out of the dumpster and peeked around the corner. I couldn't see anyone on the street, and I climbed up onto the dumpster, giving a little jump and catching the edges of the roof. I hauled myself partially over, then looked around. No one on the rooftops either.

I dropped back down and set off in cautious pursuit of the empty space.

_***Time Skip***_

After Germany had texted me, I had decided to find something to eat, and by "find" I meant "steal". It wasn't like I could go to a supermarket or whatever; the 2ps seemed to acquire food by the same means they crossed over, via sigils. I certainly hadn't seen any way they could get them here; this whole place seemed to be dying by inches. _Then again…that does make a kind of sense. After all, this isn't a "cannon" universe; maybe worlds are defined by their creators, and whichever one came up with the idea for a world first defines what kind of world it's going to be. This world and, more importantly, the people in it, were made up by different people who had different ideas about different characters and different ideas of what "their" world may look like. Because the reasoning defining this place is so convoluted, everything in it is either twisted or struggling for it's very existence._

This made as much sense as anything I was ever likely to come up with, and trying to ponder on it made my head hurt. For instance, why were the people from our world the ones to make up this universe? Did that mean our world was made up by someone else? Or that all these anime worlds actually existed, or just the most popular ones? Were the less popular ones like this, badly defined and warped? Did the fanbase have any pull in creating a universe, or was it just the original author? If the fanbase differed enough from what the original author created, did a different dimension form?

Sometimes an A+ in philosophy class is a bad thing.

But various intra-dimensional musings aside, I was hungry, I was in mild pain, and I had been under a lot of stress in the past few hours. Food was paramount, and a rest sounded even better. My blonde hair had been tied back in a ponytail for lounging about the library, but that hadn't saved it from the inordinate amount of dust and grime that populated this world. A bath would be nice. A lot better than nice, if I was to be honest. There was a distinct undertone of blood in the air, at first sickening, but, as one got used to it…mildly annoying, and it made me feel grimy all over. I was absurdly grateful for the sneakers I wore, because there were occasional puddles and streaks of liquid best left unidentified, in nearly every negative color you could care to think of, just incredibly bland or dull ones. Most of it was red or brown; I did _not_ want to have my socks soaked with that substance. It looked nasty.

Anyway, I eventually crept down the breadth of the street, and crossing my fingers, I cautiously peeked around the corner. No sharp objects flew out at my head, which I took as a good sign. I was about to step into the open before the sound of running feet sent me darting back into the shade of the building, and I watched with wide and frightened eyes as 2p China, Italy, and Japan ran around the corner. 2p China suddenly skidded to a stop and let out a hiss of exasperation. "Look idiots, we can't catch her like this!" he snapped, and the other two skidded to a halt a few paces away. 2p Italy glared at the Asian nation dangerously as 2p Japan remained silent and stoic. "What makes you say that, you stoned _idiota_?!" he barked, and 2p China shouldered the butcher's knife he had in his right hand. "Think about it. How much noise does this place have normally?"

2p Italy glared at him. "None! What's your point!?" he snapped, and 2p China shrugged soundlessly, making 2p Italy clench his fists. "Well, we're making quite a bit of noise, aren't we?" he pointed out quietly, and 2p Italy opened his mouth, his face contorted with rage, then realization came into his eyes and he swore under his breath. "Shit. We've been making enough noise that the little _cagna_ would've have heard us coming and bolted every time we came close." he muttered, and 2p Japan nodded. "I agree. At first it I thought it best to do that, since she might've made a mistake because she was afraid of us and ran too soon or too predictably, but it seems she's more canny than I thought." 2p China tossed his blade up in the air and caught it by the hilt. "Despite the fact we thought the…originals…she had to help her were the main threat, she's more than dangerous enough on her own. It makes sense that Oliver wants her; she could prove a major stumbling block to the plan." he mused, and 2p Italy snorted and began playing with his switchblade knife. "Funny, I thought she already was. They undid nearly _all_ our work possessing the others, and when I say all, I _mean_ all. Every last one of us except America, Canada, and England have been exorcized from the originals, and it's only a matter of time before they figure out what happened."

2p Japan spoke up again. "Unless of course, they don't figure it out, and are told." 2p China and Italy looked at each other uneasily as he continued. "There's no guarantee that just because they've been secretive so far they won't talk now, especially now that their comrade is trapped here. They have every reason to pool their resources with the other countries to try and get her back, especially since our only three remaining are here, trying to catch her." I perked up a bit at that. Maybe all was not lost, at least as far as my survival went. All three 2ps unsheathed their various weapons as my heart sank again. "All the more reason to kill her before they can get to her." 2p Japan said coldly, and I swallowed hard as they split up and began walking, _quietly_, along the streets. Before long, they were swallowed up by the tangle of buildings, and I was now confronted with three evil nations out for my blood, who I could no longer hear coming.

**_11.26, USA Central Time_**


	22. In Which We Go 'Unto the Breach'

**_December 17, 2014_**

_3rd Person POV_

"-und Frau Thompson ist now trapped in said dimension. Any questions?" Germany surveyed the meeting table. Both halves of Italy were uncharacteristically focused, sitting side by side and not even attempting to eat pasta or strangle each other. Germany's ice-blue eyes moved around the whole conference table. In fact, everyone was eerily normal. France was sitting calmly in his chair, his hands clasped in front of him on the table, England's seat beside him gapingly empty. Russia wasn't smiling at all, and Japan and China, on his sides, weren't edging away. Every eye was focused on the Germanic nation, and finally, Greece broached a question, his normally sleepy eyes almost focused. "So, what you're saying is, this Arya person is trapped in this alternate world? What can we do about _that_? England was the only magicker we had…"

"Actually you're wrong on that one; both me and Norway know a thing or two about magic." Romania cut in from the other side of the table, looking at the Nordic nation for confirmation. Norway nodded quietly. "Ja, I know magic." he said to the room at large, and Greece blinked. "Well, do you know how to do the…the magic to get her back?" he yawned, his attentive posture slowly drooping as the land of nod called his name. The cat on his chest mewed and followed his lead. "Z"s began to drift from the pair as Turkey rolled his eyes from beside them. Russia raised his hand. "One question," he said, regaining his childlike smirk. "How come we cannot just get the beating on the 2ps when they come back? I'm sure they'll tell us how to get her back if the Magic Metal Pipe of Pain asks them." He raised the plumbing object in question as China and Japan finally scooted their seats the perquisite few inches away.

"Because we don't even know if she'll be alive by the time we ask, _stupido_." Romano snapped, although he yelped and hid behind his brother as Russia turned to smile at them both. Germany sighed. "Romano's right, Russia. We can't even be sure if she's alive now, aside from texting her, und if we do zat, we might blow her cover if she's in hiding. We'll have to wait until she either texts us or we find a way to drag her back on our own." he explained wearily, and Prussia cut in excitedly, pointing his pen at the entourage. "I have un awesome idea! What if instead of dragging her out, we go in after her?" Germany glared at his brother. "This is serious, Prussia! If we can't even get one human out of zere, how do you expect _us_ to get out once we got in?!"

Prussia pointed at Romania. "We take one of ze magickers with us und leave one here to pull us out!" Romania blinked twice. "That's…actually a really good idea." he said in surprise, and Norway nodded. "My magic is the stronger of us two, so you should probably be the one to go with them." he said neutrally, looking at his companion, and Romania nodded a few times. Germany tugged Prussia aside, glancing at the other countries worriedly. "_Preußen_, you've been fighting ze 2ps longer than the rest of us. Do you _honestly_ think that some of the weaker nations would stand a chance against their doubles if we brought them over?" he hissed, and Prussia patted his back cockily. "Don't worry West, I'm planning on only bringing you, me, zat scary bastard Russia, und some of ze Asian countries, not _everyone_!" Germany frowned uneasily. "We'll be outnumbered." Prussia shrugged with a slight smirk. "_Ja_, but zis way we know nobody's going to stab us in ze back! Kesese~!"

_Arya's POV:_

I nearly screamed in shock when my phone rang again, and hurriedly snatched it out of my pocket. Flipping it open, I blinked at the text from Germany. The thoughts of them coming in after me had never occurred to me, but, in retrospect, it seemed not only entirely logical, but the best option they could've come up with. I quickly typed back a response. "_If you guys are going to come through, I should probably find somewhere conspicuous. Where are we meeting up?_" There was about a half-second's pause, and then the reply came in glowing black and white letters. "_Romania and Norway say that the transferral from world to world will happen in a large pillar of light. You'll be able to see that, so head for it and we'll hopefully not miss you._"

I blinked. "_Wait, won't the 2ps see that too?!_" There was a long pause, and then a soft ding. "_Yes, but we're bringing Russia, myself, Japan, China, Romania, und my idiot brother Prussia. Myself, Japan, Russia, und China for muscle, Prussia for experience, und Romania for magic. Hopefully we'll be able to hold them off until you get here. Do you know which 2ps are around?_" I swallowed and looked up, casting my eyes around the dingy alleyway as if the 2ps would jump out at me. "2p _China, Japan, Italy, America, and Canada are definitely on my trail, but so far I've only seen 2p China, Japan, and Italy. They split up a while back to cover more ground._" I typed in, then received his acknowledgement and turned my phone off. I began climbing up the side of the alley I was currently sulking in, my whole body aching and twinging in protest. _A bath._ I thought longingly as I climbed. _A nice long, hot bath where I can relax and soak all the kinks out of my poor, sore body._ My sarcastic inner chipped in, making me chuckle weakly. _A bath, a bath, my kingdom for a bath._

_3rd_ _Person POV:_

"Alright, is everyone ready?" Germany looked to his companions as Norway and Romania both raised identical thick tomes, one standing in the magical circle with Germany and the others, the other sitting at a table a good distance away. Japan loosened his sword in its sheath, preparing to come out of the portal fighting if need be. China had his wok slung across his back for the same purpose. Germany himself had his gun and sheer muscle mass to protect him (and others if need be) from danger. Russia had his metal pipe and sheer pants-wetting aura of danger, fear, and intimidation. Prussia was fast and strong enough that he hopefully wouldn't need a weapon, and Romania had his magic.

This would work.

He turned back to face Norway. "Alright, we're ready. Remember, one of us will call your phone to signal our retreat, und when we do, bring us back as fast as you can. We're going to this world to get Frau Thompson back, nothing more und nothing less. We are not going to attack these "2ps" without provocation, und we will not stay a second longer than is absolutely needed by the mission. Ready, begin." Both magical nations nodded and opened their books, closed their eyes, and began to chant. "_Ore no osoroshi sa wo omoishiraseru tame ni zenryoku de norotte yaru, haruka naru chi yori shoukan suru, saa, ideyo!_" The floor under the assembled nations glowed a bright wheat-yellow as they finished their chant, the light radiating outward from the sigil carved upon the wooden boards, and it shot up into a pillar as every nation felt a moment of vertigo, then a sensation strangely similar to that of being tumbled along a stream of rushing water, hearing and sigh numbed by the dull rushing sound and brightening yellow light, and then, there was a small shock as solid ground rushed up to meet their feet.

_**9.34 AM, USA Central Time**_


	23. In Which There is a Free-For-All

_**December 19, 2014**_

_Arya's POV:_

The sky about fifty meters directly ahead of me was suddenly shot through with a blinding pillar of light, and I yelped and threw up my hands at the sudden glare. Squinting, I realized that the source of the light was on the ground, in one of the streets, and once I did, I started calculating my route. The streets would be too dangerous, so that left about three or four blocks of rooftops to run over. I took a moment to silently pray for success, then ran towards the edge of the roof, taking a running leap, and slammed into the next house over. I ignored the breath that was driven out of me in a wheeze, hauling myself over the brink and getting to my feet again. I inhaled once and then ran again, jumping for the far roof once more. In this manner I progressed a few blocks before I heard the distinct thud of pursuit. I glanced over my shoulder as I leapfrogged from one building to the other, and gulped as I saw a flash of purple behind me. 2p France was not one of the 2ps I was familiar with.

I glanced ahead again as I leapt to the next roof; I was about two blocks away from where the flash had come from. _Am I going to make it?_ I tried not to look behind me and check, knowing it would slow me down, but the urge was nearly irresistible. The muscles in my back tightened, remembering what it had felt like to be chased by 2p Italy and subconsciously trying to brace myself in case 2p France had a similar set of throwing knives. I heard a thump nearly directly behind my back as I jumped to another roof, and flicked a glance over my shoulder to see 2p France nearly a step behind me. I yelped and ran even faster, but just as my feet touched the next roof I felt him hit my back and we were both sent skidding across the rooftop.

It wasn't neat, it wasn't clean, and it certainly wasn't easy. I was desperate to get away and he was equally determined to stop me; there was a large amount of clawing, struggling, and punching as we wrestled together on the slightly tilted roof. I could feel us sliding towards the edge and twisted; he grunted and tightened his chokehold on my neck. I slammed my head backward and felt a crunch as he howled something in French and let go, cursing all the way. I managed to stand up, turn around, and glimpse the blood pouring down his face before he tackled me again and we were once more rolling around the rooftop, calling each other various foul names and getting in an occasional hit before we were blocked by the other's arm, leg, or hand. More than once I found myself in positions with him that I would've normally castrated a guy for putting me in, but right now, survival was all. Capture meant death.

Finally I managed to get an elbow into his stomach, making him wheeze as all the air left his body, and I wrenched myself to my feet and aimed a good hard stomp on his abdomen. Incredibly, he didn't block me, probably still out of air, and even more incredibly, I drove the breath out of him for a second time. I didn't need to take a hint; I backed up and _ran_ for the edge of the next rooftop.

_3rd Person POV:_

Germany reeled as soon as the light dissipated, feeling sick to his stomach, only catching a glimpse of many rotten, sagging buildings on brick-paved streets before he was staring at said street and trying not to vomit. He had only faced 2p Italy before, and from a distance, but _this_, this was indescribable. The pure, unfettered source of the second player's evil was all around him, and as he glanced at Prussia, he saw that even his _bruder's_ face was pale and sick. Looking behind him, he saw Romania was being propped up by China and Japan, and Russia's face was devoid of its usual innocent expression. "I do not like this place, da?" he said ponderously, tapping his pipe against one palm as he frowned at the environment. "I second that, aru." China agreed, shivering and looking around.

"But it's such a nice place, once you get used to it." A deep voice said with malicious glee. Germany and the others recoiled as the first 2p sauntered out of an alley, playing with his butcher knife. Cruel red eyes gleamed at them all as 2p China leered at his counterpart. "We can get to know each other…aru." His smile widened at the last word. China immediately took out his wok. "How dare you mock me, aru!" Romania quickly righted himself from the sudden lack of balance, and Japan gripped his shoulder before also moving away and drawing his sword. "We are rooking for the girl. If you have not seen her, move out of our way. If you know where she is, take us there." he said calmly, holding it out in front of him. 2p China tossed his butcher knife in the air and caught it again by the hilt, utterly uncaring. "And why should I do that?"

Russia stepped forward with a small smile on his face. "Because if you don't, we'll hurt you, da?" A wide grin appeared on the other China's face. "Oh you will, will you?" he chuckled, and Prussia glanced to his side as another set of footsteps approached. "So it's these hosers? Fuck, I thought the girl was getting up to something troublesome again." Prussia was not as much of a jerk as he pretended to be sometimes; he could recognize the Canadian nation, and he could definitely recognize the description Arya had given him about his double as he slouched around a corner. The hockey stick made it a bit of a no-brainer. "_Ja_, well, we're about to cause more trouble than she ever could!" he shot back, and ducked as a knife flew threw the air.

"Ciao asshole. We still have some unfinished business, no?" Luciano said predatorily as he approached from the opposite direction as 2p Canada. Prussia turned to face him as China faced off with his 2p and Japan and Russia began cautiously approaching Canada's. "Hey, fucktards!" Germany blinked and turned, swearing under his breath as he saw the 2p that eerily resembled America prowl out of yet another alley. He backed up a little as he spoke to the others. "China, you take care of your double. Prussia can handle Italy's, and Japan, you take Canada's. Russia-" The arctic nation turned, raising his pipe with a childlike smile. "Da?" Germany nodded his head towards 2p America. "You handle him." Russia's smile grew wider, if that was possible, and he began striding towards the 2p happily. "Da~!"

Prussia picked up the knife Luciano had thrown. "Kesese, now we're on even ground, loser!" he cackled as 2p Italy's eyes darkened and he pulled out another knife. Both China's glared at each other and brandished their weapons. Japan crouched as 2p Canada spat out his cigarette and approached, wielding his bloodied hockey stick. Germany clenched his fists and sucked in a long breath. "Alright, Romania, you follow me. We'll go look for Arya." The magical nation nodded and tucked his book inside his coat. "Right, sure thing." 2p America lunged for Russia. "You fucks aren't going anywhere!" Russia blocked his overhead blow with the bat and attempted to smash his pipe into the fake's side. "I do not think it is your decision, my friend." he said with a light smile. 2p America dodged and struck at him once more. "Fuck you!"

2p Canada swung his hockey stick for Japan's head, but the Asian nation was prepared for him and ducked, his sword flashing as the 2p blocked the blows with his stick, chips of wood flying from the clashing weapons. "Get out of my goddamned way you hoser!" Japan swung with his sword once more and used his scabbard to deliver a punishing backblow to the double's head. "I'm afraid I cannot. You have one of our allies here, and we are not leaving until we get her back." Luciano practically dove on Prussia, both countries going at each other tooth and nail with the knives they held. Sparks flew as Prussia blocked the 2p's knife swipe and kicked him in the stomach. "Zat was for totaling my totally awesome car you loser!"

Both China's were going at each other so hard and fast neither had breath for words. The steel of the original China's wok was covered in shiny new scratches, and 2p China's butcher knife had several notches in the blade. Germany and Romania, while all the 2ps were distracted, took the opportunity to run down a side alley and come out into another, broader street. "Alright, now Arya should've seen zat flash, so all we have to do is-" A blonde figure suddenly jumped across the intervening space between the narrow streets. "-wait." Germany finished dumbly. Romania jumped up and down, waving his hands. "ARYA! DOWN HERE! DOWN HERE!"

_**9.43 AM, USA Central Time**_


	24. In Which We Meet Up

**_FYI, I'm doing like a great big update on the 25th as a sorta Christmas present to ya'll. Just saying. And if you're following any of my other stories, they'll probably be updated too._**

**_December 21, 2014_**

_Arya's POV:_

I skidded to a halt, my ankles aching from the multiple strains jumping had put on them. _That isn't a voice I know, but…it sounds familiar?_ I crept to the edge of the roof, then beamed in delight. "Germany! And…um…" The man with brown hair and red eyes waved at me happily. "I'm Romania!" he chirped, and I caught sight of a fang in his mouth. _Uh…is he actually a vampire, or is it just because he's Romania?_ I thought vacantly, then shook my head and jumped down. "So, what's the pl-_mph_!" I struggled in panic as I was encased in the mother of all bear hugs, beating on Germany's shoulder as my collection of air was rapidly deprived. "MM! MMP!" He let me go sheepishly. "Sorry Arya, I forget you aren't a country sometimes." he said apologetically, looking down at me. I had dropped to my hands, wheezing. Romania patted my shoulder comfortingly as I struggled to bring air into lungs I was sure were crushed flat. "It's okay, he does it to everyone he hugs. Super-country strength and all that." I coughed and wheezed one last time. "Sure thing man." I croaked, then shakily got up.

Germany still looked sheepish. "Sorry again, I really am." I waved my hands. " 'S all good here man. Don't mention it." He looked slightly more mollified. "Right. Anyway, Romania, if we use the spell to get back, will it take the 2ps who are fighting Japan and the others with us?" Romania began thumbing through his magic book. "Not if use the right spell." I cracked my knuckles. "So who are we fighting?" Romania and Germany gave me a pointed look. "_We_ are fighting 2p Canada, America, Italy, Japan, and China. _You_ are still supposed to be on medical leave." Romania pointed out, and I coughed and twirled my finger, indicating the world around us. "Some hospital." Germany bopped me on the head. "None of zat. Come on, und just sort of stay at ze back." I glared at his back as I fell into line between him and Romania, with the magical nation bringing up the rear. _I hate being useless._ I thought irritably as we entered an alley that apparently led to the street they had been dimension-switched onto.

We came out into a scene of violent, bloody chaos.

China's left shoulder and arm were covered in blood, but he was smashing away merrily at his 2p, who was bleeding heavily from his temple and missing his cap. His butcher knife dangled between his fingers, covered in China's blood. 2p Canada's hockey stick was covered in dents and chips, his neck and chest covered in blood that somehow only oozed from a long slice in his throat. Japan's sword, soaked in blood, was evidence as to who had stuck the blow, but he moved cautiously, and he was holding his side like a few ribs had been broken. Russia and 2p America were trading blows so hard and fast that I could barely see them, much less any wounds they may have had. Prussia was currently kicking the shit out of 2p Italy, screeching German curses at the Italian barely blocked blow after blow, a large bruise blossoming on the side of his face.

Germany moved fast, moved decisively, and moved fluidly. He snatched up a fallen brick off the ground, strode towards 2p China, and laid him out in one swift _crack_ of brick against skull. China stopped fighting with a sound of relief, awkwardly shouldering his wok. Germany marched over to 2p America and laid him out with equal swiftness. One loud _crack_, and the bad-tempered American was out cold on the ground, dark sunglasses askew on his forehead, nail-splintered bat rolling out of his hands. Russia nodded to him with some measure of relief, and I saw the scratches and splinters from the bat all over his face. He and Germany turned in unison and went to gang up on the others. China noticed me standing with Romania and went over, clutching his shoulder to stop the bleeding.

"Hello, you must be Arya, aru." he said with a painful grimace which was probably meant to be a smile, holding out his wounded arm as if to shake my hand. I bowed a little sheepishly, shaking his hand as gently as I could. "Hi, yeah, that's me. Sorry about…um, all this." He smiled and shook his head. "No trouble, aru. You saved me first, remember? It's just paying a debt, aru." I nodded happily, and we all jumped at the sound of a large smack. Turning, we saw that Germany and Russia had struck simultaneously, and that 2p Italy was laid out on the ground, his skull nearly caved in and bleeding heavily. 2p Canada glanced over Japan's shoulder at his defeated comrades, then swore. "Fuck! You hosers just don't know when to quit!" he spat, lashing out at Japan and then quickly backing out of the corner the Asian nation had backed him into.

We all took the hint and back up too, so that the battle lines were clearly drawn. 2p Canada, the only one standing of his brethren, and 2p China, America, Italy all laid out on the chipped and rugged brick of the street, unconscious and possibly unable to recover. The originals, the 1ps, most of them wounded, whether heavily or lightly, and me, apparently out of the equation, as my whole body was still strained from the car crash and strenuous movement would tear my newly healed tissue…not that a lot of it hadn't been torn already. Although the originals were heavily outnumbered if the other 2ps got wind of events and came here, for now, we had the definite advantage. And as long as nor more than two or three of the other 2ps showed up, the advantage would still be ours. 2p Canada opened his mouth to say something foul, and everyone on our side leaned forward, preparing to fight, but we were all interrupted by a cheery voice.

"Oh my! I leave for just a few hours to take care of some seals, and look what a mess you naughty poppets have made~!"

Every hair on my body stood on end, and for a second, I could've sworn my heart stopped. A brightly clad figure practically skipped around the piles of rubble, followed by 2p Japan, whose dull red eyes flashed smugly when they contacted mine. _So that's why he wasn't fighting with the others…he was going to get 2p England._ Speaking of, the eerily cheerful mastermind of this entire scheme capered to a halt, his bright blue eyes swirling with faint traces of pink, a faint grin lingering on his lips. I took the startled moment to study him. Like most of the fanfictions, he was wearing a light pink shirt with a purple vest over it, a bright blue bowtie tied perfectly at his throat. His corduroy pants were a light cream color, his shoes patent brown leather. He was a strawberry blonde, with, of course, huge eyebrows, but I couldn't tell whether or not he had freckles at this distance. I was also dead certain it would take a team of horses to drag me so much as one inch closer to him. His evil fanned out around us like a poisonous cloud.

He smiled widely as our eyes met. "Hello poppet." I swallowed hard, my knees weakening as his light British accent floated across the space between us. "W-who are you?" I stammered, trying to work my tongue around the fear choking my throat. He affected a look of surprise. "You don't know, poppet? Funny. I thought you knew quite a bit about us." Avarice gleamed in his eyes as he took a step closer to our line. "And I was wondering to myself, how do you know so much about us? I was very careful…_erasing_ our information from the world of our originals." he said curiously, tilting his head to the side like a sinister bird. I gulped and backed away an equivalent pace. "I-I read it. In a book." I whispered, and he giggled. "Really? How fascinating. And who wrote this book?" I shrugged, backing up another step as I bumped into Prussia, who laid a hand on my shoulder and gaze it a comforting squeeze. "Dunno. Lots of people who didn't sign their names."

He put a finger to his lips, tapping it as he thought. "A book where lots of people didn't sign their names…are you lying to me, poppet?" he asked, closing his eyes in a cheerful smile completely at odds with his ominous question. I opened my mouth to answer, but Germany stepped in front of me, quietly snapping his fingers behind his back at Romania and pointing to me. "Yes, well, we're leaving now, und we're taking her with us." Romania stepped beside my other shoulder and opened his book, using the screen Germany's body provided. 2p England's face suddenly lost its cheerful demeanor. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." he said darkly, and we all froze. "Do what, exactly?" Russia asked suspiciously, shifting his pipe in his hands. 2p England pointed to me, regaining his bright, closed-eyes smile. "Take her away without all of us getting introduced, of course!"

I think we all sweatdropped, even 2p Canada. 2p England seemed oblivious to this, stepping forward and taking a swaying, elegant bow. "I'm Oliver Kirkland, and this disrespectful young man beside me is Matt Williams." 2p Japan glared at his back; somehow, "Oliver" sensed the glare and its meaning. "And the gentleman behind me is Kuro Honda. These-" He indicated the sprawled bodies of his comrades. "-unfortunate young men are Allan Jones, Luciano Vargas, and Wang Zao. There, our introductions over." I think everyone on our side shuddered. "Even the names are similar." Prussia whispered in horror from next to me, the fingers on my shoulder tightening and shaking. Oliver stood straight once more and smiled at me. "Now young lady, I think you should tell us your name. We already know the names of our…brethren." His cheerful smile faltered slightly as he mentioned the originals, but then strengthened. "After all, the others will get here soon, and then we'll have to start introductions all over again~!"

**_4.16 PM, USA Central Time _**


	25. In Which We Have Enemy Engagment

**_December 25, 2014_**

_Arya's POV:_

Well _that_ didn't sound good. The original nations all edged closer together, and Romania began flipping through the pages in earnest as the others shielded the two of us with their bodies. Prussia suddenly handed me his phone. "Call Norway, we're leaving _now_." he whispered urgently, and I flicked down the contact lists to find the Nordic country, then quickly began typing as Oliver, as it was easiest to call him, tilted his head to the side, still awaiting my answer. "_We're ready to be use the spell or whatever, get us out of here Norway!_" I sent the text, then looked up and edged around Russia to see my target, much as I disliked the sight of him. "Why don't you already know? Didn't the other Germany and Luciano tell you already?"

It was a valid question. I knew that the 2ps knew what their originals did, at least when they took over, and both 2p Italy and Germany's originals had known my name. Oliver looked surprised. "Why, of course poppet! But it's what one does, when one introduces themselves, they say their name." I eyed him suspiciously, and was about to answer when Romania stomped on my foot. "Don't tell him. Names in the hands of a sorcerer have power, especially when they know how the original person pronounces it!" he hissed in my ear, and I swallowed and looked at Oliver. There was a suspicious, hungry glitter in his eyes that I didn't like at all. "You already know my name, so I don't see why I should tell you again. I don't like being repetitive." I said firmly, and was rewarded by a faint scowl.

_So he **was** up to something._

He replaced his scowl with his usual smile, but suddenly everyone linked hands, including Prussia and Romania. I stifled a yelp as they tugged on my sore muscles. "Again, that's really lovely, but we are leaving, now."Germany said firmly, and Romania opened his mouth to begin chanting. "_Meramera to, moyaki tsukuse sumi kara sumi, made sono gouka de atokata mo nokoranu you ni, tamashii made mo yaki tsukuse._" Oliver's face abruptly twisted with rage. "DON'T YOU DARE!" he roared, but the ground underneath us was already glowing, and I felt a familiar lurching sensation as the world melted away. The last thing I saw was Oliver's furious blue eyes and the rusty world spinning into an eternity of black.

_3rd Person POV:_

"Dammit damnit DAMNIT!" Oliver was nearly in tears of frustration. All his hard work for _nothing_! The girl had gotten away, the sigils were still unfixed, and worse still, Matt was nearly blistering his ears with the Canadian's swearing. He wanted to bake. Baking meant sense to him. He wanted to bake a great big batch of arsenic cupcakes and feed them to everyone he saw. It took all of his enormous self control not to tear at his strawberry blonde hair as he settled for agitated pacing. "Allen!" he shrilled, turning to the sprawled figure of the red-eyed American. He approached the body and gently kicked at it, outraged tears in his eyes. "Wake up now! Wake up! That naughty poppet got away! WAKE UP!"

Allen's head lolled, and then his crimson eyes squeezed shut as he grunted. "Fuck you, Oliver." he growled, weakly rolling away from the British man's foot. He scooped up his glasses and awkwardly sat up, rubbing the bump on the back of his head. "Bloody fucks got the jump on us." Oliver was practically hopping up and down in rage. "I bloody well know they did, because they got away! All of them! Every single last one!" he wailed, turning and lashing out at a pile of rubble. "_Month_ after _month_ of work_ ruined_ by one vexing little poppet!" he hissed, in tears as he continued to kick at the rubble.

He needed her Given Name. He _needed_ it, it was imperative to his entire plan to neutralize her threat before she went too far. He needed her dead and out of the way in the same fashion he needed to eat, needed to sleep. And how, how, HOW had she known about him, about them?! He had been so excruciatingly careful! It had taken_ years_ to eliminate all rumors, mythos, and records of them in the world of their originals, and this one little girl knew seemingly everything! Had someone told her!? No, no one could've possibly _told_ her! She hadn't seen or met any of them before she and that former nation, Prussia, had shown up at Kuro's house!

He realized his toe was beginning to hurt and stopped kicking the rubble, biting his lip. Allen and Matt saw this and edged away nervously, but he barely registered them. Oliver only bit his lip when he was trying to come up with his very worst, most depraved, most heinous ideas. _She couldn't possibly have been told by one of us, because none of us have ever met her before. And no one from that world can remember us, either. I made sure of that. …Could it be true? Could she have really read it in some book, some tome I missed? I was so sure I has gotten all of them…_

He let go of his lip and sighed. There was no way to know, except to ask her outright. With a knife. And some poison cupcakes. He already had some lovely ones in mind, a nice brown and gold swirl on top of white frosting, with arsenic. Lots and lots of arsenic, and maybe some cyanide… His eyes glazed briefly as he smiled. He didn't think that, being as she knew so much about the others, she would be fooled by his delicious poisoned delicacies, but one never knew. He could bake some later and hope for the best, but for now, it was time to regroup and let his temper loose. Hopefully one before the other. When Oliver lost his temper, things got…messy.

_Arya's POV:_

The world realigned itself with a watery roar, and the blow cut out as I blinked at a deadpan, blonde young man with dull indigo eyes. "Hallo. I am Norway. I suppose you are the human they went to get." he said flatly as he closed his book, blinking slowly at me. I blinked back. "Uh, yeah, that's me." He nodded. "Okay." While this fascinating conversation was going on, I sensed the nations at my back moving amongst themselves, until finally someone's hand clamped down on my shoulder with an iron grip. Russia leaned over his hand, smiling at me in an intimidating fashion. "Privet, I am Russia. You are very small to be causing such a fuss, da?" he asked me, and I looked at the two of us, comparing. I came up to his shoulder…

"I'm not that small. Nice to meet you though." I said, turning slightly so we weren't conversing over my shoulder. He smiled, his hand ruffling my hair in a friendly fashion. Only he was so strong it felt like he was trying to crush my skull. "You are not like America says his citizens are. I like you." he said cheerfully, closing his eyes. I smiled uncertainly, not sure if this was a bad or a good thing. "Ehehe…sure thing man." Japan scooted around the towering arctic nation. "_Konichiwa_, I am Japan. But we have met before, haven't we?" I nodded and shook his hand with a friendly smile. "This is our first proper introduction, I guess. I'm Arya. Aryana Thompson." He smiled slightly at me. "It is a preasure to meet you."

I frowned worriedly as China stepped up, but then I realized the only sign of damage was his bloody sleeve, and he was completely healed from the butcher knife. Russia's scratches were gone as well, and Japan wasn't limping any more. _Knock knock Arya, remember what Romano said? Countries heal nearly instantly after they're hurt._ My musings were suddenly interrupted by China's fierce hug. _"Nín hǎo_ little one, I am China! It's nice to see that you're alright!" he said into my shoulder, and I grunted and nodded, resigning myself to the sudden lack of air. Germany pried the two of us apart. "Now zat we know who is who, perhaps we should focus on the doubles, ja?" he reminded us irritably, and I sighed and nodded. "So, about 2p England…"

* * *

><p><strong><em>Merry Christmas!<em>**


	26. In Which Arya Takes a Trip

_**I think I put a cliché in here somewhere, but I swear to god, it just…happened. I was writing this chapter and suddenly things took that turn of events. **_

_**December 31, 2014**_

_3__rd__ Person POV:_

"One person, _one_, young, weak, naïve, _American_ girl, beat you all, every last one." Oliver said in a strained voice, looking around the table with pink swirling in his baby blue eyes. Francois snorted and pulled out his cigarette. "Oliver, I fought ze little _salope_ myself, and she isn't all that weak. And remember, zis was after Luciano crashed 'is car into 'ers." Oliver leaned forward, resting his weight on the table, a strained smile twisting his features. "That isn't the point, Francois." he said sweetly. "I _thought_ I had outlined the plan clearly, I thought we had all gone through the steps, and yet here we are with nearly all of our people found out and evicted, and all but three of our originals sitting calm and happy in that little sugar-palace world they have built for themselves." He slammed his palm down on the table with a bang, his eyes nearly glowing with rage. "How did _one_ _human girl_ manage all of that?!" There was a long silence, the last words of his shout echoing along the sagging rafters in the equally mildewed roof. No one wanted to tangle with Oliver when he was in one of these moods. Lutz slowly tapped his fingers on the table, leaning back with a sigh. "It's like she knew us on sight, Kirkland. Who we were and what we look like."

Luciano paused casually embedding and yanking his favorite knife out of the table. "When she first met Feliciano…she called him Italy." he said slowly, his magenta eyes suspicious. There was a deadly silence, and Oliver's eyes began to lose the pink swirls, but take on a far more dangerous glow. "On sight?" Luciano nodded, drumming his fingers against the table as he chewed on his lip. "As soon as she got a good look at him. She had fallen or jumped in that river near his house; as soon as she was coherent…" Oliver smiled slowly, like the cat who got the cream. "She knew who he was?" The Italian nodded, and Oliver began chuckling. "So, the naughty little poppet did lie to me. Does anyone, and I mean anyone, remember meeting this "Arya" before? Whether as yourself or your original?" A chorus of "no"s in various different language sounded around the table. Oliver drummed his fingertips together with a muted chuckle, nibbling on his lower lip. "So, the only question remaining is how she did know about us, when she so obviously lied about learning about us from a book."

_Arya's POV:_

I suddenly gave under the pressure of Prussia's arm, tumbling across the packed dirt of the track in my surprise. "Kesese~! If you're planning to fight ze doubles like zat, you're toast!" he cackled from the lunch table, and I scowled at him from the dirt. "You know that feeling you have when someone says "what's the worst that can happen?" in a movie and automatically know they're doomed? Multiply that times a billion, and you get what I just got." I said crankily, and he breezily waved at me. "Whatever, sore loser." I grumbled under my breath as I got to my feet, but was of course knocked backwards by Italy as he tackled me in the mother of all hugs. _Seriously, he could get a job as an American football player! Just tell him to hug whoever has the ball, and WHAM! Instant paycheck. _I thought ruefully as I rubbed my head where it had hit a rock, automatically prying the Italian off of me. "Seriously Italy, don't you ever get, I dunno, tired of hugging people?" I asked as I sat up, and he sat back on his heels next to me, his face innocently confused. "Vee~, of course not."

_ I can't believe he and Romano are related._ I thought with a sweatdrop, getting to my feet with Italy's helping hand. Germany had either removed or set up some red tape barriers in his country, and had gotten permission to use the weird freaky healing mojo the countries could do on me. Apparently, for important cases, they could use the energy of their people or some shit like that to heal completely ordinary humans, but needed permission from their current boss to do so. Germany had wrangled permission out of said boss, so now I was as fresh and undamaged as I had been when I entered the Hetalia world. Better, even. I had been working out with Germany, Italy, and now Japan every day, and it was starting to show. Prussia tagged along more often than not, and moments before, we had been having an arm-wrestling contest, which I had just lost.

"Seriously, can I start learning how to fight now? Like with a katana! That'd be so badass!" I exclaimed petulantly as I sat back down, and from beside me, Japan shook his head rapidly. "_Ie_, training to be a samurai takes far too rong! Most were trained from birth!" he argued, and I whimpered, turning and giving him the puppy eyes as he deadpanned. "You are far too ord to pull that off." he said flatly, and I snapped my fingers, turning back around. "Dangit." He picked up a rice ball with his chopsticks and ate it calmly, as if nothing had occurred. "Fighting rike a samurai takes concentration and willpower, it's not a hobby. First you go through various _kata _movements, then build up speed, and that's onry for the basic first moves." he lectured, and I folded my arms, pouting. "So I guess I'll just be a stupid damsel in distress if the 2ps attack again." I grumbled, and Italy squinted, raising his hand. "Vee, question Arya. Why do you keep calling the doubles "2ps"? Is that what the book called them?"

_ Shit shit shit shit shit._ "Uh, it's actually just what I started calling them in my head, ya know? L-like being short for "second players", 'cause I play games a lot, ya know? Total nerd, right here!" I said quickly with false cheer, waving my fork in the air. Japan took another bite of his rice ball. "It does tend to stick as a nickname, or whatever." Germany nodded, obviously turning the words around in his head. "2p. Second Players. That sounds a bit less…categorizing? _Ja_, categorizing than "doubles". For all we know, they were here first." he said with a shrug, and I nearly opened my mouth to say "I highly doubt that", but realized my mythical book probably wouldn't have mentioned dates of creation before I shut it with a snap. Prussia yawned obnoxiously, obviously bored. "_Ja_, whatever. They're long gone; all we have to do is wait for ze doubles –sorry, 2ps of America, Canada, and zat jackass Britain to show their cowardly faces here, und snap, it's all over."

I chuckled weakly. _Yeah, just three more to go, and then I can ask England to take me home. Damn…how long have I been here? Two months, nearabout? Almost three? I've stopped keeping track, other than to record it in my journal…it's sad, but I don't miss my family at all. They were nice, but…boring. Boring, distant, and distracted._ I thought, then sighed and shook the uncharitable thoughts from my head. "Hey guys, I'm going to get up and wander, 'kay?" I asked somewhat shamefully, scooting out from the table, and Japan nodded. "Don't go too far." he cautioned, and Italy smiled. "_Si_! Can I come too-" Germany gripped the top of his head before he could clear his seat, pushing the Italian back down. "I think you want to be alone right now, _ja_?" he asked kindly, and I nodded, stuffing my hands in my pockets and beginning to meander across the track field.

I headed for the small copse of trees parallel to the track, my thoughts centered on my family. No siblings, almost no cousins, and only a few aunts and uncles. _My family has forever alone down to an art form._ I thought acidly, kicking at a stone and watching it skitter under the bushes. _Mom and dad almost never around, too busy with work and each other, and when they are, it's just pleasant small talk between all three of us. Nothing a __**real**__ family would talk about._ A small sigh escaped me. _I really shouldn't be so bitter about it…I guess having more than one or two real, good friends makes all the difference. Shows just how pathetic my life has been so far._ I was about to kick the stone again, but I choked and my panic senses went haywire as a strong arm wrapped around my neck and jerked me back against someone else's body. The point of a sharp kitchen knife pressing against the hollow of my throat told me how serious my assailant was.

My hands were still free, and as subtly as I could, I inched my right one towards my pocket, where my phone was, only to be stopped by the person digging their knife vindictively into my throat. The rapidly awakening sensation of vertigo in my gut only confirmed what I was hoping against hope was not happening. "Now poppet," Oliver began with sickening sweetness, his free hand dipping into my pocket and drawing out my phone, flicking it off with deliberate slowness and moving it out of my line of sight. "That's not nice." I seriously debated saying "I wasn't trying to be nice" with a heavy dose of sarcasm, along with several variations of "fuck you", but I really, really didn't want to be eviscerated. So I settled with an angrily whispered "Why are you here?"

He laughed giddily for a few moments, and his laughter was without a nodding acquaintance to both sanity and amusement. His knife suddenly dug viciously into my neck again, and as much as it made bile rise in my throat, I moved back towards him, feeling the heavy metal blade draw blood. "I'm not in a good mood Aryana." he whispered in my ear, his other arm locking around my waist so I couldn't back away again, and I fought the urge to vomit at the prolonged closeness to his tainted self. "A very naughty little poppet broke apart all my plans, and that same naughty poppet lied to me when I asked her about herself, and more importantly, how she knew about us." He slowly traced the knife across my throat, humming to himself. "Why, if I wasn't mildly curious about who you really are, I might've just cut that pretty neck of yours right now. Isn't that nice of me?"

"Not particularly."

He giggled again, and suddenly twisted his grip somehow so that we were face to face, although I was about five or six inches taller than him. It was disconcerting to realize that, despite his overwhelming presence and persona of evil Sweeny-Todd-ness, I was actually bigger than him. He grinned up at me, that twisted, eerie Cheshire grin that some of the fanart showed, and showed me the knife dangling between his fingers. "You'll have to tell me all about what you consider "nice" then, won't we? I'm inviting you to my home. In fact, I insist." He suddenly shoved the knife up against my throat, and I had to tilt my head back in a hurry or risk him slitting my neck. "Extended stay, limited time offer. One-way ticket though, I'm afraid. You'll be with us for quite a while."

_**9.09 AM**_


	27. In Which The Truth Visits

_**To what few people are reading this, if it isn't painfully obviously by this point, I am styling Oliver/2p England as the main bad guy here. My apologies to those who are a fan of him (myself included), but he just…fit. Plus, in my opinion, there are far too few stories about him being evil, and too many where he's just macabrely cheerful and a lover of cupcakes. Is it bad that I want him to be more evil? -.-' I'm pretty sure I have issues. Last chapter of this year! **_

_**December 31, 2014**_

_Arya's POV:_

For being so much shorter than me, Oliver was pretty strong, more than strong enough to drag me through the small grove of trees with one hand while keeping the knife close to my throat, in case I tried to scream. Honestly, I saw no reason not to and opened my mouth; only to be quickly disabused of that notion as he clamped his other hand over my mouth and nearly wrenched me off my feet. I stumbled for a few seconds, then hissed in surprise as he tossed me into the back of what seemed, in my quick glance around, to be some kind of delivery van. The blunt end of the knife handle meeting the back of my skull promptly snuffed out any thoughts I had in my head, and I felt the cold, rough surface of the van's floor against my cheek, the dim sound of a car starting up the last thing I heard before everything winked out into darkness.

_***Time Skip***_

I groaned, my head pounding. Leftover adrenaline was coursing through my nerves, and I felt on edge, although at the moment I couldn't piece together how or why. Opening my eyes was too much of an effort, and I shivered, feeling the icy smoothness of cold concrete under me. I began to move to wrap my arms around myself, but midway through the movement, I realized that my hands were tied together. That was more than enough incentive to open my heavy eyelids, although it did little to improve my mood or my situation. Everything around me was pitch black, and no matter how I turned my head, I never encountered any kind of light source. Awkwardly shuffling, I managed to sit up. My legs were tied together too, but I had enough slack to probably walk. A run, however, was out of the question.

I twisted my shoulders a few times, trying to sense by feel what condition I was exactly in. Whatever was binding my hands and feet together was not metal, so if I had a knife, I might be able to cut it. I was in my exercise clothing when I was kidnapped, which meant sweatpants and a loose black tank top. I seemed to still be in this attire, which was certainly a relief, especially considering the fanfics about many of the 2ps' attitude towards women roughly my age. I felt my pockets awkwardly, before remembering Oliver had taken my phone. Perhaps belatedly, it was only then that true panic set in, and my throat tightened. _Oh god oh god oh god, I-I'm going to die here-_ I clenched my fist, my chest heaving as I fought back the urge to scream and panic even further. Thoughts of all the various depraved and horrible things the 2ps had been written off as capable of doing didn't help either.

_Breathe. Don't panic, just- breathe. Panicking won't help you at all, and you managed to beat these guys before, right? _I swallowed hard, closing my eyes as I thought. It wasn't very comforting at all, since I couldn't resist adding _Of course, that was when they weren't expecting you._ I mentally slapped that part of my mind. _Shut up. I kicked their asses once, I can kick their asses again. Besides, it's not like Italy and Germany won't suspect something when I suddenly up and disappear. They'll be on his trail once they realize I'm missing. _Almost as soon as I completed that thought, a door in front of me swung open, making me squint and turn my head away from the sudden, comparably bright glare, a masculine figure silhouetted against the blinding square of light.

"Ah, I'm so sorry poppet, I forgot to turn the lights on." A flick was heard, and suddenly the whole room was lit up with a bright fluorescent glow. Once my eyes adjusted, I turned my head to see Oliver sit down a few inches away from me, crossing his legs in front of him. A small covered dish sat next to one of his knees. My heart froze. _That better not be cupcakes. _Slowly, I looked up, noticing as I did that he did indeed have freckles, near-invisible ones dotted about his nose and cheeks. His Cheshire grin widened as our eyes met, and I had to fight back the urge to flinch. He inclined his body slightly in my direction. "Good morning poppet. How are you feeling?" he asked gallantly, as if he hadn't kidnapped me and was probably planning on torturing me.

"…I've been better." I replied after a slow pause, and his eyes glittered with mirth. "Mm. Well then, I suppose you're hungry." He whipped the covering off the plate, and my chest tightened as I beheld the vanilla cupcakes, frosted white with some starburst-like swirls of brown and gold on the top. He unwrapped one and held it towards me, his blue eyes maliciously innocent. "Have a bite." I squirmed a bit, looking away. "I'm not hungry, and besides, I don't trust you as far as I could throw you." I growled. _And I would love to find out how far that is._ I added silently, sullen anger curling in my gut. He chuckled, dusting some imaginary specks of dust off the perfectly frosted delicacy and placing it back on the plate. "I wonder how long you're going to keep this charade up, poppet."

I looked back at him, frowning. "What charade?" He leaned back, resting his weight on his palms as he smiled at me calmly. "The one where you're pretending you read about us in some mythical book." _OH __**SHIT**__._ My mind blurted eloquently, and I scowled at him, trying to cover whatever slip I had made. "Why is it so hard for you to believe? Are all the colors you wear grinding down your perception of reality as well as your sanity?" I snapped, rather proud of the first insulted I had dared to throw at him. His mirthless smile merely grew as he raised a hand, beginning to tick off reasons. "One, I took a very long time to make absolutely sure no such books existed. Two, even if you had, why on earth would you have not tried to locate said book when you were hunting us, so that your comrades could share your knowledge without depending on you. And thirdly-" He leaned forward, his smile turning vicious as he made his _coup de grâce_. "You knew who our originals were before they told you too. And I know for an absolute fact that no book was _ever_ written about them, nor a book that spoke of both sets of us."

Shit shit shit shit shit, I had forgotten when I had first met Italy and blurted his name without thinking. I shrugged in a surly fashion, trying not to panic again. "So? What does it matter how I know? I know, and there's absolutely no way anybody else can find out except from me." Oliver's bright smile dimmed somewhat. "Yes, I am aware of that, poppet. However, curiosity nags me." He began picking at the cupcake, breaking off a few crumbs. "After all, you did ruin most of my plans. I can salvage them, but it won't be easy." Suddenly he grabbed me by the hair and shoved the crumbs in my mouth, pinching my nose shut and holding my mouth so that I could not breathe until I swallowed. I struggled, but I couldn't stop him, and the need for air outweighed my will, even though I fought not to swallow, my body did.

He let go with a smirk and sat back again, wiping his hands on a brightly embroidered handkerchief from his pocket. "Now, all we have to do is wait." I stared at him in horror, raising my bound hands to feel my throat. "What the hell did you just feed me?" His satisfied expression turned mockingly innocent. "Why, poppet, I fed you a cupcake!" he squeaked, and I glared at him. "That was no more a normal cupcake than I'm the Queen of England." He scratched his cheek, a wicked smirk beginning to break through. "Well, it did have a few drops of a special little truth potion I made somewhere in there. So, how _did_ you know about us?" The question was so casually asked that I opened my mouth without thinking. "Online. There's a site there." I instantly clamped my mouth shut, horrified. _Why the hell did I just say that?! _

Oliver's eyes gleamed like a hunting hawk's. "Online, like the internet? Is that another lie, poppet?" I bit the inside of my mouth and looked away, struggling not to answer. Somehow, a "no" suddenly slipped out as he grinned in satisfaction, leaning back. "So you weren't quite lying when you said that you read it, correct?" A quick "yes" slipped out once more, despite my desperate attempts to keep quiet. I turned red in humiliation, staring shamefully at my bound hands. I was ratting like a filthy, no-good traitor, and I couldn't stop myself!

"So does this site contain information on all of us?"

"Yes. Many different people. Writing. Some disagree on various points of behavior and history, but most everyone agrees on the general appearance."

"Which is?"

"Same as you actually look like, apparently."

"Ah. So this is how you knew about us?"

"Yes."

He grinned at me and ruffled my hair mockingly, standing with a grunt. "That's enough for now, I think. You're obviously fighting against the potion, and if it damages you, I'll lose my information." He started walking away, leaving the tray full of cupcakes behind. "Eat as many as you like. Some have a little extra ingredient, some don't. Have fun guessing which is which." He began to close the door, and spared another malicious grin in my direction. "I'll turn the lights off. You obviously prefer the dark." With a flick of the switch, I was plunged into darkness again, and I curled up into a ball of shame. Sure, the information wouldn't harm my friends (or at least I hoped so) but the sheer ease at which I had volunteered information disgusted me. Now that it was dark again, and Oliver wouldn't visit for a while, I felt it was marginally safe to cry.

So I did.

_**7.31 PM, USA Central Time**_


	28. In Which 'I Can't Decide'

_**Hi guys, it's me again. Miss me? Of course not, nobody reads this. *deep gloom cloud* All I'm saying is that it would be nice to have more than the same two people review. As for **__Singular Poisonous Ashes__** and **__TheKatanaMistress__**, you guys are awesome for continuing to support my hopeless first efforts at a Hetalia fanfic. On the slightly less cranky side, did I mention that the temperature dropped to -37 degrees out this morning? And we still had school?**_

…_**and that I take the bus at roughly 7.40 in the morning?**_

_**Needless to say, it was cold. Very cold. And, sadly, the temperature only rose to -5 by the time we went home, which, by the way, is three in the afternoon. SO. COLD. On the plus side, because of the extreme cold, only about half (sometimes less) of the people in class showed up, so our teachers really didn't make us do that much. The song that 2p England's listening to is called I Can't Decide by the Scissor Sisters. Also, somebody did a video on Youtube of the song as a tribute to 2p England, so search "Hetalia I Can't Decide" if you feel so inclined and it'll probably be there somewhere. **_

_**January 7, 2015**_

_Arya's POV:_

After I had finished crying and rubbing the evidence of my tears off my face, I awkwardly sat up again, although I was still deeply depressed. I took a few deep breathes, trying to calm myself down. _You aren't dead yet, Arya. Focus on that. As long as you aren't dead, you can still win this._ Oliver still hadn't returned, hadn't even passed by, as far as I could tell. I decided to search for something to help untie my hands and legs, like a serendipitous badly hammered nail or broken piece of glass. As soon as that thought occurred to me, I remembered that the floor was concrete, and winced. _Okay, maybe just a broken bit of glass or something. _I cracked my neck and began searching. After a few unedifying moments of award crawling, I figured out a gait that I could use without doing the worm for every inch, and made rapid progress.

Unfortunately for my escape efforts, that progress revealed that I was in, more or less, a big stone box. The door was the only break in the smooth concrete room, no windows, no furniture, no hangings on the wall, no nothing. I was absolutely alone except for myself and the tray of cupcakes. _Wait a second. Oliver said that there were some "surprises" in the cupcakes, and didn't that one story say that sometimes he hid razors in his cupcakes…?_ I quickly scuffled over, gingerly picking up one and squeezing the fluffy pastry. I didn't feel anything inside, and I was sure as hell not _eating_ the damned thing. I picked up another one did it once more. The fourth cupcake yielded an oblong object, and I picked it out, rubbing it on my pants and feeling around the object in the dark. It felt like some kind of Swiss Army Knife. I flicked out a corkscrew, a strangely pronged thing I suspected was some kind of bottle opener, and a nail file before the device finally yielded a sharp edge. I set it against my binding and began to saw it back and forth.

_***Time Skip***_

Hands and feet finally free, I cautiously got to my feet and tucked the various accouterments back in, leaving the knife out. Sure, it was barely an inch long, but the tiny blade was infinitely better than nothing. I felt my way to the door and then groped towards the light switch. Turning it on, my eyes watered for a few seconds before I adjusted and took a deep breath. I knelt, preparing to at least attempt to pick the lock on the door, before it silently swung open at my push. I froze. _That was intentional. He left the door open on his own. There's no way he could've forgotten to lock it._ I thought with a soft whimper, then shook my head and got myself together. _And now that I think about it, he left a very obvious hint about the cupcakes too. Is he…testing me? Trying to see how far I'll get?_ I set my jaw. _Well, he'll sure as hell see me get far._ I peeked around the door frame, seeing a long, dark hallway, and nobody in it. In hindsight, I turned the light in the room off, then crept out and closed the door.

I flattened myself against the hallway wall, taking slow, deep, and as-silent-as-possible breathes. _They caught you off guard before because you weren't paying attention. Pay attention. The slightest feeling of sickness, of vertigo, of __**anything**__, get ready for an attack. _I thought firmly, beginning to inch along the wall. Light was coming from a room beside or near the hallway, and to my surprise, I also heard faint singing. I blinked a few times, confused. _None of the stuff I've ever read says anything about __**any**__ of the 2ps singing…but doesn't the original England sing? I mean, he did have a punk phase, right? So did Oliver just pick up on that or…_ As I took another two or three scooting steps closer, I realized it wasn't Oliver singing with a sense of both confusion and relief. _Why the hell is he listening to music?_

I heard vaguely distracted humming as I nearly came around the corner of the hall, and what was most likely Oliver's footsteps sashaying around the kitchen. The music was coming to me clearly now, and I made a face. It was a bit too…bouncy for my tastes. "_I'm not a gangster tonight, don't wanna be a bad guy-_" I nervously looked behind me, squinting at the darkness to check if anyone was sneaking up on me, before taking a deep breath to steel my nerves. "_I'm just a loner baby, and now you've got in my way-_" I peeked around the corner to see, in retrospect, predictably, Oliver skipping around a kitchen with an iPod soft blaring music from its spot on the counter. I saw an assortment of cupcake pans on the counter as well, and a large mixing bowl filled with batter. I sweatdropped. _It's not exactly the time to be thinking this, but does everything this guy think of revolve around baking?_

"_I can't decide whether you should live or die~! Oh, you'll probably go to heaven, so please don't hang your head and cry_-"

_And killing._ I amended, taking another deep breath and starting to tiptoe towards the door I saw across the room, at the "end" of the hallway, which seemed to lead outside. "_No wonder why my heart feels dead inside, it's cold and hard and petrified! Lock the doors and close the blinds, I'm going for a ride!_" Nearly halfway. I risked another glance at Oliver, and miraculously, he seemed completely absorbed in his cooking. _I can't fucking believe this._ I thought in disgust, taking another step forward. But at that thought, I stopped dead. _If something seems too good to be true, it usually is._ I reminded myself suspiciously, then remembered that Oliver knew magic. And that a hell of a lot of fanfictions showed him using traps on the floor. I looked down and silently snarled in frustration.

_That bloody little fucker._

Interwoven with the carpet were many small sigils, based on the various pentacles like I had seen the Englands use both in the anime and in person, and currently, my left foot was on one of them. My mind promptly went blank. I had no idea what to do. What did the pentacles do? What would happen if I took my foot off this one now that I had seen it? Would anything happen? I had been walking on them without a hitch so far, so what the hell _did _they do? How were they activated? _Shit shit shit shit, I'm overthinking this, he's going to see me, he's going to see me!_ Considering all possible alternatives, I did something strategically unsound. Mentally screaming "fuck it", I began using the sigils like hopscotch squares, avoiding the "bare" carpet.

To my surprise, I had almost made it to the door before there was a solid "_swish-thunk_" and an overly large butcher knife was quivering in front of me, half-buried in the wall and blocking my way rather effectively. I looked to the side and glared at Oliver as he smiled genially, waving a finger in a "tsk tsk" motion. "Now poppet, don't you know it's rude to leave someone's home without saying goodbye?" he chided, and in answer, I grabbed the butcher knife with both hands and yanked it out of the wall, turning to face him with it. "I'm American. Rudeness is in our natures, now, if you don't mind, I'm booking it." I said shortly, still intensely peeved at myself for spilling the beans to him, partial beans as they were. He merely giggled to himself, assuming somewhat of a neko expression, before calmly skipping over to me.

I raised my butcher knife, unsure of just what the hell he was doing. "I'm warning you." I said uncertainly, and his catlike grin widened. "Are you now? And just what are you warning me about?" he cooed as he tilted his head to the side, and I blinked twice, nonplussed. _Is he seriously losing his mind?_ "The fact that if you come another step closer, I'm going to ram this through your gut." I said impatiently, raising my weapon further. He deliberately, insolently took a single step closer, still grinning. "Are you now, poppet? Do you have the strength for that? There are quite a few organs in my abdomen, you know. You'd have to thrust that knife right on through my stomach to stop me from-" Here he flicked out a razor I hadn't noticed in his hand. "-harming you as I bleed out. It takes a while for someone to die from a gut wound, you know, and that knife isn't suited for slitting throats."

_Shit. _

My eyes moved towards his chest, wondering if I could maybe get him through his heart, and he chuckled, jerking my gaze up to his face. "Really now poppet, right there? You have no experience killing people at all!" he tittered, pressing his hand to his lips as if genuinely amused by my efforts to asses where to stab him. "There are far, _far_ too many bones in the way for you to try it with a big clumsy knife like that! Why-" He suddenly moved, and before I knew it he had the razor jammed up under my ribs and the hand with the butcher knife pinned against the wall. "Even I'd have trouble with this little blade of mine here!" I growled at him, trying to jerk my hand free, but hissed when I felt a sting in my ribs and shortly afterward, a warm, wet, trickling sensation down my side. "And do stop trying to squirm about. It's rather undignified behavior for a lady of your age."

I glared at him. "You want undignified?" My clenched fist stuck against his head as he stumbled slightly, his eyes losing focus for a split second, and I rammed the butcher knife as hard as I could up, scraping his ribs and forcing the blade into the gap I felt between them. He choked, blood flecking his lips and my face, and I shoved him away from me, backing towards the door. He staggered and collapsed on his side, blood pouring onto the carpet, and I gulped, bile rising in my throat. _Okay, I just killed a guy. Take it as it comes and get the fuck out._ I turned back towards the door, trying to calm my hysteria, but I was interrupted by _laughter_. I whirled around, seeing Oliver rise from the floor, blood still pouring from his side. He pulled the knife out with a sick "_squilsh_", his blood covering the blade. He smiled at me with a hint of annoyance in his features, his face nearly demented with glee and pain. "I hate to tell you this poppet, but as long as your precious originals are alive, none of us "second players" will die." He chuckled weakly, and brandished the butcher knife at me. "Unfortunately for you, I don't believe the same is true."

_**9.06 PM, USA Central Time**_


	29. In Which Allen Gives Vent

_**Okay, I'm in a slightly better mood now that someone new has reviewed. I dunno, I guess I'm spoiled from the Hellsing category, where I normally write, and I'm fairly certain lots of people know who I am. Ergo, lots of them review my stuff out of principle. Not to mention the fact most of my friends are in or from that particular category, not including **__TheKatanaMistress__**, whom I believe is an old friend from Soul Eater, yes? *sweatdrop* Hey, you changed your name, I can't be blamed for forgetting where you originally came from. On the subject of local, in school our schedules got rearranged this year (I mentioned this in other stories, I think) and I get a whole class with my friends, all of whom (including me) are included in the "Special Kids" category, so to speak. Anyway, we play games a lot (best class ever) and we play Sorry most often, and we've sorta assigned country names to each other. (Most of us know about anime, if not active fans.) Anyway, so one of my friends is Japan, I'm Russia, another's Germany, another's Ireland, and another's China. Not that any of us really embody the traits –my friend took Japan because that's where anime comes from, my other friend took Ireland because he usually takes the green pieces, the other guy took Germany because he has a somewhat unhealthy obsession with WW2 and all events therein, my other friend kinda got China by default, and I chose Russia because I freaking love Russia. (Also Germany was already taken.) We usually joke around and attempt to stop "Germany" from reenacting WW2 by winning the Sorry game. Japan and I have an alliance, Ireland usually joins in. **_

_**Mother Russia wins a lot though, da? ^J^**_

_**January 8, 2015**_

_Arya's POV:_

Assessing the situation, I was in really deep shit. Oliver apparently couldn't die unless I somehow killed the real England too, and obviously I wasn't going to try that. He also had a large butcher knife and a maliciously gleeful air about him. I had a small razor that was better suited for, what I assumed, slitting throats and opening baking goods than defending against a much, _much_ larger blade. He knew the layout of the house, I didn't. He most likely had allies nearby, I almost certainly didn't. He knew how to kill someone quickly and effectively, I had no clue. He really wasn't fond of me and I really didn't like him.

Yeah. Things weren't looking good for me.

They only worsened when there was a knock on the door. Oliver's eyes didn't leave me, but he rose his voice so the person or people on the other side could hear. "Who is it? And please don't come in quite yet." There was a nonplussed silence, and then the doorknob rattled. "It's me and Matt, now why they fuck aren't we allowed inside?" a familiar voice snarled, and a slow grin spread across Oliver's face. "Allen, would one of you please stay outside so our dear guest doesn't attempt to leave us? I don't think she's satisfied with our hospitality." he chirped happily, smirking at me maliciously. I winced visibly, and yelped when the door slammed open, a familiar figure barging through. "Who the fuck-" he began, but then his crimson eyes landed on me, and they lit up with murderous intent as he brandished his bloody baseball bat. "_YOU!_"

I cut and ran, heading for the stairs I saw on the right side of the hallway earlier. _Oliver downstairs in the kitchen, Matt at the door, a dead-end hallway, and Allen behind me. The only way to go is up. _I hastened to reassure myself, sheathing the razor hurriedly as I ran, so that if I fell I wouldn't cut myself. "Get the fuck back here you fucking little bitch!" he roared from behind me, pounding up the stairs after me._ Good luck with that._ I thought deliriously as I skidded around a corner, my eyes roaming frantically for an exit. _Window glass break smash out get._ I darted for the window frantically, but suddenly ran smack into what felt like a sheer wall in the thin air and bounced backward, landing on my ass._ Damnit, remember the magic bit._ I reminded myself, rolling to my feet and sprinting for yet another staircase. I heard cursing behind me as Allen apparently ran into the same wall, and had to stifle a snicker as he roared "TAKE THE FUCKING MAGIC OFF YOU DAMN IDIOT!"

But laughing depleted precious running oxygen, and he was still coming after me a few seconds later. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck, where the hell is another exit that he won't put magic on?_ In a flash, I remembered something from a favorite anime of mine, and just in time too, as I skidded to a halt inside a dusty attic. _The air vents._ Looking wildly around, to my surprise and astonishingly good fortune, there was a large one just out of reach in a corner piled high with crates and boxes. I jumped on top of one, then another, and wrenched the grating off, using my fingernails and sheer, desperate strength just as Allen came rushing into the room. I dove headfirst inside the vent, just as he noticed what I was trying to do. "OH NO YOU FUCKING DON'T!" he snarled from behind me, and I yelped as there were several crashes sounds, and then hands on my left ankle, hauling me backward.

I hissed in panic and kicked backwards with my other foot; he swore and I felt him dodge the movement, probably dropping his bat so he could grab me with both hands. I found the crease of another vent and dug my fingers in, heaving myself forward and nearly out of his grip before I felt his other hand on my ankle, yanking me backwards with all the force of a hate-filled, national superpower. I screamed as I felt my nails break and bleed as I was wrenched backwards another few feet, and slammed my foot backwards one more time. By luck or coincidence, it slammed into either his nose or his face, and he screamed a "fuck" and let go with one hand for a brief moment, letting me try to kick free and pull myself forward. I broke free and frantically scuttled forward, but then I felt his hand groping for my ankle, finding it, and seizing it hard enough that I bit my lip, choking off another cry of pain.

"GET-"

He pulled viciously.

"-THE FUCK-"

Another hard yank.

"-BACK HERE-"

I was slipping, oh god, I was slipping, he was going to win.

"YOU LITTLE BITCH!"

With one last pull, he ripped me out of the vent and flung me bodily across the room. My fingers bleeding from my cracked nails and efforts to hold on, I staggered upright, swallowing hard as he snatched up his nailed bat, his blood-red eyes absolutely livid. "You wanna fuck with me?!" he growled, advancing on my position with a murderous gleam in his eyes that boded extremely ill for me, his nose pouring blood. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck._ I thought in blind panic, stumbling backwards. I tripped over a package of something, or a box, it didn't really matter, and fell on my ass once more, still scooting away as fast as I could. Suddenly he took three huge steps forward, and was right above me as he raised the bat above his head. My eyes went wide and I covered my head instinctively as he whipped it downward.

I gave a short scream as I felt the nails tear open my right arm, and then there was another devastating blow to my side what felt like only a few seconds later, and I curled up in a fetal position, still covering my head, as his blows rained down upon me. He was obviously used to using his bat as an offensive weapon, and the nails made what would ordinarily be a simple beating (simple being a relative term) into something not only incredibly painful, but something incredibly damaging. I felt blood trickling down my arms and sides, and lots of it pooling under me and on my sides. He was screaming at me, swearing, insulting, demeaning, after a while, it all blurred together into an endless cacophony of hatred and anger, and my vision was flickering like a guttering candle by the time I heard a different voice break the rhythm.

"Allen…I wanted…alive…"

"Fuck you…s…still is…fuckin…got angry…broke m…nose…"

"…poppet…unconscious…back to…room…"

I blacked out once more.

_3__rd__ Person POV:_

"Vee~, Germany?"

The blonde nation turned around as he saw Italy scampering over to him. "_Ja_?" He and Prussia had just been leaving another follow-up conference, trying to find out just where the hell the last three 2ps remaining had ended up. Italy was looking uncharacteristically worried. "Have you two seen Ari? She wasn't at my house when I got home…" Prussia chuckled nervously. "Kesese…I'm sure she's just…you know…still wandering around. Maybe she's PMSing?" he tried with a parody of his normal laugh, but it was obvious he was concerned. Italy shook his head worriedly. "She didn't come home for pasta…Ari loves my pasta…Romano always says that that was the only way you could ever tell she's related to us…" Italy whimpered. Alarm bells started going off in Germany's head. He turned to Prussia, his intent evident in his eyes.

The former nation held up the car keys to his repaired (and enhanced) car. "Scratch it und I come after your ass with a machine gun. I can tell ze other nations." Germany took the keys gratefully and nodded to Italy. "Italy, you go tell Romano what happened, alright? Then meet up with us where we usually do training." The Italian nation saluted with a bit more panache than usual. "Yes sir!" Germany nodded to them both as they went off in opposite directions, heading for where the country cars were parked, pulling out his phone. "Romania, Norway, Arya's gone again. We don't know where she is, start probing the area for magic, _bitte_." he said into it, then stashed his phone in his pocket and continued onward.

_**6.11 PM, USA Central Time**_


	30. In Which Hunger Visits

_**Am I mean to my OCs? *sweatdrop* I'm mean to my OCs. I'm pretty sure that, given another working option, they'd totally quit my employ and go somewhere else. I mean, look what I've done to Arya so far; poisoned/drugged, kidnapped not once but **__twice__**, stabbed, gotten into several car crashes, bruised ribs, and now our dearest darling-est 2p America has pretty much beaten her half to death with that monstrosity he calls a baseball bat. **_

…_**Did I mention this is only about halfway through my planned plotline? *another sweatdrop* Hang in there Arya, my OCs always manage to live through their stories…conditionally.**_

_**January 9, 2015**_

_Arya's POV:_

The first thing in my head as I woke up for the second time in what I assumed to be as many days was the fact I had a raging headache and tasted copper in my mouth. Next; that my arms hurt, a lot. In fact, I hurt all over. Then my memory caught up to me, and I cringed, a low whimper catching in my throat. _Okay, note to self, do not piss Allen off. Ever. Again. _Then I noticed the position I was in –my arms were above my head, held there by something cold and slick. I was cross-legged, leaning against what seemed to be another cold concrete wall. With a gargantuan effort, I managed to peel my eyes open, and the world, blurry and dark at first, slowly came into focus. 2p Canada was leaning against the wall next to the door, smoking something. He was in nearly an identical position, except his hands were shoved in his pockets, and his hockey stick was laid across his knees.

His dull purple eyes met mine at around the same time I noticed him, and a mirthless smirk shifted his cigarette slightly. "Well, look who's up." I glared at him witheringly, but was certainly in no condition to start a fight, and instead looked up, seeing that my hands were locked in manacles and bound above my head. The metal circles were slick with my semi-dried blood. Matt, noticing the look, chuckled darkly. "Al fucked you up pretty good –but it never hurts to be safe. Especially when we're dealing with a little bitch like you." I intensified my glare. _Okay, that constitutes a verbal response. _"Listen buddy, it's not my fault you kidnapped me. You take me against my will, you better be damn prepared for the consequences." I said flippantly, forcing myself to relax and lean arrogantly back against the wall.

He stood up, slinging the hockey stick over his shoulder, and took three quick strides across the room, jerking me upwards by the hair and slamming his hockey stick against my throat so that I struggled for air, feeling wounds reopen all over my body. His purple eyes bored into mine, his face twisted in an angry sneer. "And you fuck with us, bitch, you better be prepared to take some pain." he snarled, blowing nicotine smoke into my face as he spoke. He dropped me and I landed on my ass, the chains jerking slightly at my wrists as I did. I glowered up at him resentfully as he stood over me for a moment, a warning clear in his eyes, before turning again and striding back to his spot. He leaned his hockey stick against the wall and slump against it, watching me with boredom clear in his eyes. _Great, now I have a guard and chains. _I thought in irritation, looking up at my bound hands. _Well, I can't pick a lock, and he sure as hell isn't going anywhere._ I sighed in defeat, settling down against the wall and watching the Canadian with equal apathy. _The only thing to do now is wait for the situation to change._

_***Time Skip***_

I went cold with fear as the door clicked open a few hours later and Matt looked up, then raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me he actually trusted you not to break more of her bones?" he asked Allen flatly, and the seemingly perpetually angry nation glared at him, his hand visibly tightening on his baseball bat, the nails on the end still covered in my blood. "Shut the fuck up you treehugger, and go help him set things up." he spat, jerking his head towards the door, and Matt shrugged to himself, picking up his hockey stick and sauntering out. "I'll check back in ten minutes, see how much blood you've spilled." And with that parting comment, the door closed again, and I was left with someone who had quite gleefully beaten me into unconsciousness a few hours before.

Since even looking in his direction caused an angry glare and warning growl, I peeked under my eyelashes, checking to see how much damage I had caused _him_. To my disappointment, the only signs of a fight were the bloodstains on the front of his white shirt, evidence of the broken nose I had given him earlier. He had already healed. What a pity. I sighed and leaned back, tapping a foot against the floor absently. _You know, after being kidnapped and thrown into a situation where nobody in the entire world likes me, and most have a bone to pick with me, boredom is __**not**__ an acceptable emotion for me to be feeling._ And yet, astoundingly, I was bored. I was sitting in a room with a psychopath who had nearly beaten my brains out no less than nine or ten feet away, muttering under his breath, and I was bored.

My stomach rumbled, and I amended that statement. Bored and _hungry_. I hadn't eaten since…since…okay, when _had_ Oliver force fed me the cupcake crumbs? Since then. _Before _then, as two or three rather small chunks of vanilla cupcake most certainly did not constitute as a meal. As I was daydreaming about this, my stomach rumbled again, and I let out an embarrassing squeak as Allen suddenly snarled in frustration and slammed the end of his bat on the floor. "Shut your stomach the fuck up!" he spat at me, and I glared back, hunger and indignation forcing me into a dangerous temper. "How the hell am I supposed to do that?! I haven't had anything to eat since before you freaks kidnapped me!" I nearly screeched back, and he snarled another curse and turned to punch the wall next to him. "Fuck!"

He suddenly stood, stalking out of the room with his fists bunched at his sides. Less than a minute later, he was back, carrying, to my surprise, a plate of food. He stomped over to me, obviously loathing every step, and slammed the plate down in between my legs. "There's your fucking food! Now eat!" he snapped, and I deadpanned, a tick mark on my forehead. "Firstly, I don't trust anything from that freak's kitchen. Secondly, I can't eat shit with my hands tied up like this." I swung my wrists back and forth a little in demonstration. His crimson eyes simmered with anger, and he growled another curse, slapping his palm over his eyes. "The cupcake bastard already had this plate ready-made, so you're not going to die. And if you wanna eat it, you figure it out. I brought you your damn food, you eat it on your own." he grinded out, obviously very close to losing his temper, and promptly spun on his heel, stomping back to his "spot".

I looked down at the plate distrustfully. A plain lettuce-and-tomato sandwich, some crackers, and an apple. _Okay except for the sandwich, this all looks like packaged food, so it's probably safe to eat._ I leaned forward as far as I could with my hands tied above my head, but only managed to get about a foot and a half away from the plate. I jerked my wrists a bit, but the chains did not give even a millimeter. _Fuuuck…_ I attempted scooping up and balancing the plate on my knees, and got it into my lap with shaky success…and then paused again. _Okay, I still can't reach my food, and Grumpy over there is more likely to bash my brains out than help me…_ I sighed again and resigned myself to another few hours without food, that is until someone at least slightly more sympathetic to me had guard duty.

_**8.48 PM, USA Central Time**_


	31. In Which We Have a Revelation

_***Russia aura* Kolkolkolkolkolkol…nobody gave me my last review. *sheepish laugh* I'm not exactly OCD, but I go absolutely batty if the numbers of my chapters and the reviews are not in correlation. For instance, if I have a number that's a multiple of five, (i.e. 25, 30, etc.) I expect the number of reviews to also be multiples of five. And if I finish the story…strangely I still expect the reviews to be even. But its inconceivably (and somewhat pathetically) annoying to me when I had 30 chapters and 39 reviews. *gloom cloud* I'm a sad example of humanity, I know. Also, what Gillen tells Arya about the 2ps is my own headcannon/desperate attempt to rationalize the presence of 2ps in the normal Hetalia verse, if they ever do/did show up. Maybe they can do another movie, where like instead of fighting the Pictonians they fight the 2ps. Is that a good idea? I think so.**_

_**January 15, 2015**_

_Arya's POV:_

I was dozing against the wall, my hands still held above my head by the manacles. Allen had been replaced by Wang Zao, who had been replaced by Luciano, who had been replaced by Kuro, who was currently dozing against the wall in a deceptively relaxed pose. It had been him who had finally helped me eat the food, and now, my stomach no longer snarling with hunger, I was comfortable enough to try and get some sleep. Even my current guard seemed to agree with that current mood, but I knew that the instant I so much as shifted an inch, he'd jerk upright, and the katana balanced between his knees would clear its sheath by at least five inches in readiness. So it wasn't exactly a _deep_ sleep that I had fallen into, but a doze, because now I was comfortable enough with my current guard to know they wouldn't attempt to kill me in my sleep. I had personally bested Allen, Zao, and Luciano before, and none of them seemed to be the type to take that sort of thing lightly. Kuro had apparently accepted his defeat philosophically, with the attitude of _Well, she beat me once, but now I have beaten her. The board is even, there is no need for further retaliation. _

After shift after shift where the 2p across from me radiated a vibe of _one toe out of line and I'll fucking kill you and do it gladly_, this was almost relaxing.

Both of us jerked out of our respective dozes when we heard a scraping noise. Kuro looked at me suspiciously, and I squirmed around, trying to look behind me, where it was coming from. Footsteps sounded, and Kuro grabbed me by the shoulder and yanked me away from the wall. I stifled a yelp as the ruthless motion dug the metal into my wrists harshly. He stared at the wall piercingly, his crimson eyes carefully blank, showing not a hint of the emotion therein. He drew the rest of his katana out slowly, keeping the scabbard in his opposite hand as he backed away from the wall slightly, giving himself room to swing his sword if necessary. I dared to feel a trickle of hope. _Is it Germany and Prussia? They…couldn't __**possibly**__ have brought Italy…and Romano would never have come without them…_ Suddenly the wall burst inward a few inches to my left, and Kuro hissed something in Japanese as a chip hit him in the shoulder, but was cut off as a rugged block smacked into his forehead with an ugly "_thwock_" sound, tumbling silently to the ground as more concrete rained around him.

I blinked as my rescuer –he was a rescuer, right? – stepped out from the hole in the wall, kicking aside some rubble. I wasn't familiar enough with this particular 2p's traits to recognize _him_ on sight specifically, but, well, they did all look more or less like the originals, the color scheme was just usually different. He retained the original's hair color, which was covered by four or five layers of dirt and grime, and badly cut, hanging down past his shoulders. He wore a ragged hoodie, which was covered in more dirt, as well as some equally poorly-repaired jeans. As he turned to me, I caught sight of some faint scars on his face, and dull blue eyes, under which were large bags, as if he rarely slept.

All and all, he looked like a certain Germanic nation I knew, just one who had let himself go, badly…and with blue eyes instead of red.

I squinted at him.

"You're….Gillen, right?"

_***Time Skip***_

In retrospect, I thought as I belly-crawled along the tunnel 2p Prussia had dug, I was being _really_ stupid. I had no real evidence of certain members of the 2p community being less psycho than the others, so, in theory, I was blindly following a relatively unknown 2p on a fucking hunch. _It's not like he gave me much of a choice though…_ I thought with a sweatdrop, remembering how he had merely grabbed and snapped the chains, picked me up by the collar of my shirt, and more or less threw me into the tunnel, where I had the choice of either crawling or holding him up, which I sensed was not going to end well for me. I blinked when the tunnel widened out a little, and shuffled forward more eagerly, glad to have the chance to get out. I wasn't claustrophobic, per say, but I was usually the tallest person and therefore the heaviest in any group I was part of, and there was always that lingering knowledge of _if anyone's going to get stuck in a tight spot, fall through the ice, get spotted by the enemy, it's going to be me_, hanging in the back of my mind.

I came to a dead halt when I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Don't move." I froze accordingly, wondering just what the hell was going on, and Gillen squirmed past me, dislodging earth on his way, and suddenly came to a halt, getting his knees under himself and standing. He reached upward, and with a creaking sound, earth pattered down around us and a few shafts of the weak, watery sunshine that permeated the 2p world leaked down into the darkness. He shuffled around for a bit, perhaps checking for other people, and then with a wrenching sound, shoved whatever trapdoor or covering off the hole, and to my unfortunately light-sensitive eyes, seemingly bathing the entire tunnel with light. He turned slightly and jerked his chin at the hole. "C'mon." He clambered upwards, and, nothing loathe, I followed and sighed in relief as I was met with my first breath of fresh air in several days.

We were in the open space I had seen before, which turned out to be a somewhat more green space than anything here in "2pLand" that I had seen to date. It was a meadow with a bunch of forlorn, bedraggled grass stems that came up to about my knee height, and some various weeds and shrubs that were bigger, towering above our heads. Most of the plant life here was still dead or struggling, but the sheer volume of it meant the world around me had changed from a monotonous blur of reddish brick, dull grey stone and concrete, tired-looking browns and blacks, and some greenish-brown threads of grass to a large blur of varying shades of brownish green, greenish brown, faded green, and faded brown, which, strangely, made this part of the world strangely cheerful. We had just emerged from a seemingly random hole in the ground, and as I watched, Gillen grabbed a piece of sod and turned it over the hole, revealing that the "sod" was in fact a cunningly disguised piece of wood, with plants growing on the top.

He looked at me for a long moment, then suddenly grunted and beckoned me towards a large clump of the dead shrubs. Following him, I noticed we were on a tiny path, and that everything else was thickly growing, to the point of near impenetrability. My suspicions were _nearly_ moot at this point, but not entirely. I doubted he would go to all this trouble merely to kill me, but, well, to quote several movies, there were things worse than death, and the number of people I could even _potentially_ trust in this world were virtually none. I coughed politely. No response. "Hey, um, Mister Beilschmidt?" He shrugged dismissively, still not answering. Frustration sparked at my core, and I came to a halt, folding my arms and taking a belligerent stance. "Listen buddy, I appreciate you getting me away from those other freaks, but I have no idea where you're taking me or why you're taking me there, and I ain't going another step until you tell me."

His back stiffened, but he stopped walking and turned around to lot at me, irritation glinting in his deep blue eyes. "…you're right to be cautious, but I haf no intention of harming you or killing you or vhatever other daft ideas you're thinking up." he finally muttered, his voice low and gravelly, like he didn't talk much, and had spent quite a lot of time near smoke or something. I blinked twice. "So, again, not to be ungrateful, why did you help me if you don't really care what happens to me?" He shrugged soundlessly again. It seemed to be his favorite gesture. I eyed him suspiciously. _2p Prussia has inferiority or self-esteem problems and is supposedly depressed…so is he like jealous of the fact his original was helping me out? Or is he trying to get back at the other 2ps for being ignored or treated as inferior or whatever?_

He caught the suspicious look and gave me a surly glare. "I'm guessing, since you knew my name on sight, you know who I am?" I nodded. "You're Prussia's second player…person…thing." I said sheepishly, and he furrowed his brow. "Second player? Vat in the hell is a "second player"?" he grumbled, and I raised an eyebrow. "You guys, you know, everyone here. You're the second players." He snorted, shaking his head. "Vhatever crazy things zat book told you, they're wrong. We aren't "second" anything." Shock flooded my system, along with the wounded pride that came with knowing you had been wrong about something you were certain was right. "Not second anything? Than what are you?" I snapped, and he raised his own eyebrow. "We're the underground. Ze criminal undergrounds of our nations." My eyes widened. "Oh. _Oh._"

In retrospect, it was rather obvious. They looked alike, sounded alike, _were_ alike. That was because, in how many goddamned documentaries about the various heinous criminal organizations, had the narrator stressed that they were like a _nation within a nation_, how the American and British and German and Italian criminal worlds were like their parent nations, and yet with their own reasons to hate each other, to work together, and to ally with each other. It made so much twisted sense. 2p America was violent, because how _many_ violent crimes were there in America, really? 2p China, the opium addiction, 2p Italy, the mafia style of operation, 2p Japan, the _yakuza_ tattoos and the sense of honor, it all made too much fucking _sense_ to be anything but the truth. It also explained quite neatly _why_ the 2ps hated their originals so much; they were natural enemies, and they had always fought each other, and presumably always _would _fight each other, from their pure differences alone.

But that didn't explain why 2p Prussia had helped me. "Alright, so you _are_ the undergrounds or whatever you call 'em. That still doesn't explain why you're helping _me_." I said crushingly, putting both hands on my hips, and a thin and bitter smile twisted his lips. "Call it un twisted form of altruism. Mein nation, when he could still remember me, wasn't all zat bad a guy. Now zat neither of us are un established nation, you could say our hostilities abated. Then when Olivier erased the memories of us from our original's minds for his plan…you could say I vas a bit pissed, since _P__r__eußen_ was ze only one zat ever recognized me. I'm helping you for zat." I considered this point for a moment. "Alright…sounds legit enough." I conceded reluctantly. "Now how the hell am I going to get home?"

_**11.41 AM, USA Central Time**_


End file.
